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JACK  HARDY 


HERBERT  STRANG 


Baxter's  Book  Exchange 

6026  Pacific  Blvd. 
Huntington  Park,  Cafff. 


JACK  HARDY 


UNTV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


'  Surrender,  in  the  king's  name !"  shouted  Jack    Page  121 


JACK  HARDY 

A  Story  of  English  Smugglers  in  the  Days  of  Napoleon 


HERBERT  STRANG 

Author  of 

Fighting  on  the  Congo 

In  Clive's  Command 

On  the  Trail  of  the  Arabs,  etc. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

WILLIAM  RAINEY,  R.  I. 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


s 


COPYRIGHT  1906,  1907 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO- 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,   N.  Y. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Road  to  Luscombe      .         .         .         .         i 

II  Monsieur  De  Fronsac          .         .         .         .18 

III  A  Fight  in  Luscombe  Market     ...       36 

IV  Congleton's  Hollow  ....       56 
V  A  Midnight  Excursion        ....       72 

VI  Signals       .......       92 

VII  The  Best-Laid  Schemes      .         .         .         .in 

VIII    Congleton's  Folly 126 

IX  Close  Quarters            .....     144 

X  A  Prisoner  of  France          .         .         .         .     159 

XI  A  Break  for  Freedom         .         .         .         .180 

XII  The  Capture  of  the  Glorieuse     .         .         .     202 

XIII  Off  Luscombe    .         .         .     '    .         .          .218 

XIV  A  Discovery       ......     233 

XV    Tar  and  Feathers 248 

XVI  A  Run  at  Sandy  Cove         .         .         .         .265 

XVII  Diamond  Cut  Diamond      .         .         .         .278 

XVIII  The  Battle  of  Binsey  Cove          .         .         .289 

XIX  Some  Appointments            ....     309 


2132827 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"Surrender,  in  the  king's  name  I  "  shouted  Jack 

Frontispiece 

"Steady,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  steady!"  cried  Jack          .          10 

Jack,  with  a  straight  right-hander,  sent  him 

spinning  over         .  ..... 

"If  you  make  a  movement,  I  shall  fire"         . 


JACK  HARDY 


JACK  HARDY 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  ROAD  TO  LUSCOMBE 

The  first  time  Jack  Hardy  met  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Gudgeon  was  also  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit 
to  Luscombe. 

It  happened  in  this  way. 

"Good-by,  my  boy,"  said  his  father,  as  Jack 
clambered  on  to  the  roof  of  the  coach  at  the 
White  Hart,  Southwark,  "and  be  sure  you  don't 
forget  your  Cousin  Bastable,  or  your  mother 
will  never  forgive  you." 

"All  right,  father.  I'll  take  a  look  at  him  if  I 
get  a  chance.  I  say,  coachman,  you'll  let  me  have 
a  drive?" 

The  coachman  could  not  turn  his  head,  be- 
cause the  collar  of  his  coat  was  stiff  and  his  neck 


JACK   HARDY 

brawny;  but  he  screwed  his  left  eye  into  the 
corner,  winked,  and  gave  a  hoarse  chuckle. 

"I've  seed  Jack  Tars  on  donkeys,  and  orficers 
on  bosses,"  said  he.    "Lor'  bless  you,  I  knows 


'em." 


Which  was  the  beginning  of  an  argument  that 
lasted  all  the  way  to  Guildford. 

Jack  was  on  his  way  to  Wynport  to  join  H.  M. 
S.  Fury.  Ten  miles  beyond  Wynport  lay  the 
little  village  of  Luscombe,  and  two  miles  beyond 
Luscombe  was  Bastable  Grange,  where  his 
mother's  cousin,  Humfrey  Bastable,  lived.  Jack 
had  never  seen  Mr.  Bastable;  a  hundred  years 
ago  relatives  separated  by  a  hundred  miles  of 
turnpike  road  saw  very  little  of  one  another. 
But  Mrs.  Hardy  had  been  very  fond  of  her 
Cousin  Humfrey  when  they  were  boy  and  girl 
together,  and  now  that  her  son  was  going  within 
easy  walking  distance  of  Bastable  Grange,  she 
insisted  that  Jack  should  go  over  and  pay  his 
respects. 

Jack  had  just  been  transferred  to  the  Fury 
from  the  frigate  Ariadne,  much  to  his  disgust. 


THE    ROAD   TO   LUSCOMBE 

In  the  Ariadne  he  had  hoped  to  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  joining  Admiral  Nelson's  fleet  and 
fighting  the  French;  the  Fury  was  engaged  in 
the  humdrum  and  much  less  heroic  work,  as 
Jack  regarded  it,  of  hunting  smugglers.  But 
Jack  was  of  a  cheerful  disposition,  and  by  the 
time  he  arrived  at  Wynport  he  had  forgotten  his 
disappointment,  for  the  coachman  had  let  him 
take  the  ribbons  for  five  good  miles  of  the  road, 
and  he  had  nearly  upset  the  coach  in  a  ditch, 
nearly  massacred  a  flock  of  geese,  and  nearly 
taken  off  the  wheel  of  a  carrier's  cart,  which  was 
excitement  enough  for  one  day. 

When  he  arrived  at  Wynport  he  found  that  it 
would  be  three  or  four  days  before  the  Fury  was 
ready  for  sea.  To  Jack's  eyes  she  appeared  any- 
thing but  furious,  shored  up  high  and  dry  in  the 
yard,  with  huge  balks  of  timber  supporting  her 
hull.  "Wretched  cockle-shell!"  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  he  looked  at  her.  But,  having  several 
days  to  spare,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  spend 
the  time  in  looking  up  his  Cousin  Bastable. 
Lieutenant  Blake,  commanding  the  Fury,  good- 

3 


JACK   HARDY 

naturedly  gave  Mr.  Midshipman  Hardy  leave 
to  visit  his  mother's  relatives,  so  Jack  slung  his 
valise  on  to  a  carrier's  cart  that  would  jog  to 
Bastable  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  started  to 
trudge  over  the  cliffs.  He  had  been  told  that  he 
might  save  a  matter  of  an  hour  by  taking  the 
shorter  road  by  Wickham  Ferrers;  but  it  was  a 
bright  September  day,  exceptionally  hot  for  the 
time  of  year,  and  there  was  more  chance  of  a 
breeze  by  the  cliffs.  Besides,  Jack  preferred 
when  he  could  to  keep  within  sight  of  the  sea. 

He  had  no  company  for  the  first  part  of  the 
journey,  and  that  was  a  trial  to  a  lad  of  Jack's 
sociable  disposition.  As  became  a  midshipman 
of  his  Majesty's  navy,  he  was  ready  to  talk  freely 
witfy  peer  or  peasant.  The  few  people  he  saw 
were  going  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  though 
in  pleasant  country  fashion  they  "passed  the  time 
of  day,"  there  was  no  occasion  for  stopping  to 
chat.  But,  about  five  miles  out  of  Wynport,  he 
saw  just  ahead  of  him,  on  the  winding  white 
road,  a  man  with  a  wooden  leg,  stumping  along 
beside  a  donkey-cart.  The  man  had  a  broad  back ' 


THE   ROAD   TO   LUSCOMBE 

and  looked  a  sturdy  fellow.  The  day  being  hot 
he  had  stripped  off  his  coat,  which  dangled  from 
a  nail  in  the  tail-board  of  the  cart;  and  he  car- 
ried in  his  left  hand  a  glazed  hat. 

Jack  was  almost  abreast  of  the  cart  when  the 
man  heard  his  footsteps,  turned,  and  seeming  to 
recognize  him,  pulled  his  forelock  and  said: 

"Morning,  sir,  morning." 

"Good  morning.  Uncommon  hot,  isn't  it? 
You  seem  to  know  me?" 

"Not  to  say  know,  sir.  I've  seed  ye,  that's  all. 
I've  been  to  Wynport;  I  goes  there  twice  a  week 
with  my  old  moke  here,  and  a  cargo  of  fruit  or 
vegetables,  times  and  seasons  according.  And 
when  I  goes  to  Wynport,  in  course  I  looks  up 
old  messmates." 

"You've  been  a  sailor,  then?" 

"Nigh  thirty  year,  sir!  Joe  Gumley  my  name: 
ranked  A.  B.  when  I  got  my  leg  shot  off  in  a' 
action  with  a  French  privateer  six  year  ago.  In 
course  I  were  discharged  then.  I  were  a  fisher- 
man till  they  pressed  me  for  the  navy,  so  when  I 
were  no  more  use  to  his  Majesty,  sir,  I  come 

5 


JACK   HARDY 

back  to  my  native  place,  which  be  Luscombe, 
sir,  and  what  with  fishing  and  gardening  and 
such  like  I  manage  to  make  both  ends  meet,  as 
they  say.  I've  got  a  tidy  bit  of  cottage  at  a  low 
rent  from  Squire  Bastable — " 

"Oh!  he's  my  cousin." 

"Now,  if  you'd  said  uncle,  sir — " 

"Well,  he's  my  mother's  cousin;  my  second 
cousin,  I  suppose." 

"Not  having  any  myself,  I  don't  know  second 
from  first.  Howsomever,  as  I  were  saying,  I've 
give  up  the  fishing  now;  but  I  keep  to  the  gar- 
dening— not  an  easy  job  with  this  stump  of  mine, 
'cos  when  I'm  digging  the  misbehaving  thing 
will  sink  in,  and  it  takes  a  terrible  time  to  be 
always  heaving  it  out.  Like  as  if  you  was  to  have 
to  drop  anchor  and  heave  it  again  every  knot 
you  made.  But  I've  got  over  that  there  little 
contrariness  by  taking  a  square  bit  of  board 
with  me  now.  When  I'm  going  to  dig,  down 
goes  the  board,  I  sticks  my  stump  on  that,  and  so 
we  gets  on  as  merry  as  you  please,  'cos  when  I 

6 


THE    ROAD   TO    LUSCOMBE 

want  to  shift,  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  kick  the 
board  along  a  few  inches,  and  there  we  are." 

"Well,  but  how  came  you  to  know  me?" 

"Only  seed  you,  sir.  I  was  over  at  Wynport, 
as  I  were  saying,  and  only  this  morning  I  corned 
across  my  old  messmate,  Ben  Babbage,  what  was 
pressed  along  o'  me.  He's  now  bo'sun  of  the 
Fury,  and  we  was  having  a  smoke  and  a  chat 
about  old  times  when  you  come  down  the  yard 
along  o'  the  lieutenant,  and  Ben  says  to  me: 
'Joe,'  says  he,  'that's  Mr.  Hardy,  the  new  mid- 
shipman.' That's  how  I  knowed  your  name,  but 
I  didn't  know  as  how  you  was  cousin  to  squire, 
though  to  be  sure,  now  I  look  at  you,  sir,  you  do 
seem  to  have  something  of  his  figurehead  about 
you." 

"Talking  of  figureheads,  that's  a  queer-look- 
ing thing  yonder." 

He  pointed  to  a  tower  that  just  showed  above 
the  trees  in  the  distance.  In  shape  it  was  not  un- 
like a  mushroom,  the  top  and  part  of  the  stalk 
being  visible. 

7 


JACK   HARDY 

"That?"  said  Gumley.  "Queer,  indeed.  That 
be  Congleton's  Folly." 

"And  who  was  Congleton?" 

"A  man,  sir,  leastways  a  madman.  Where  he 
hailed  from  no  one  knowed,  but  years  and  years 
ago,  when  I  was  a'  infant  in  arms,  Congleton 
suddenlike  come  to  Luscombe.  He  was  a  man 
about  fifty  then,  and  'twas  said  that  having 
waited  to  that  age  to  fall  in  love,  he  got  it  very 
bad  with  a  widder,  who  wouldn't  have  him. 
Love  seems  to  be  like  measles,  better  had  young. 
Well,  Congleton  took  it  so  to  heart  that  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  live  forlorn  and  lonely  ever  more. 
So  he  built  a  kind  o'  summer-house  in  the  Hol- 
low yonder;  and  when  he  tired  o'  that  he  set  a 
small  army  o'  laborers  building  the  Folly,  for 
so  it  got  to  be  called;  and  there  he  lived  for  a 
dozen  years  in  one  room  at  the  top  all  by  him- 
self, seeing  nobody,  having  his  food  sent  up 
twice  a  week  by  a  pulley.  And  then  he  died. 
Congleton's  Folly  'twas  called  then,  and  so  it  be 
called  to  this  day:  a  sort  of  wilderness  all  round 
it,  and  a  fearsome  place  on  a  dark  night." 

8 


THE    ROAD    TO    LUSCOMBE 

The  old  tar  talked  on,  Jack  doing  the  listen- 
ing, until  they  came  to  a  spot  where,  just  after 
the  road  crossed  a  deep  chine  cutting  through 
the  cliff  to  the  sea,  there  stood  a  large  farm- 
building  by  the  roadside. 

"Is  that  one  of  my  cousin's  farms?"  asked 
Jack. 

"No,  sir,  that  be  Mr.  Gudgeon's  freehold." 

Jack  glanced  at  it  idly.  It  was  an  old  roving 
building  of  stone,  with  gables  and  mullioned 
windows,  many  barns  and  outhouses  hemming  it 
in.  Across  the  road  was  the  farmyard,  with  a 
large  pond  skirting  the  roadway;  and  beyond  it 
a  level  triangular  stretch  of  pasture  and  corn- 
land  extending  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  which 
here  jutted  out  prominently  into  the  sea. 

Just  before  they  reached  the  farm-house,  Jack 
noticed  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke  pouring  from 
one  of  the  chimneys. 

"The  kitchen  chimney's  afire,  I  suppose,"  he 
said. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  Mr.  Gudgeon  do  have  a  bad  lot 
o'  chimbleys.  And  there's  a  many  in  Luscombe, 

9 


too.  Plenty  of  jobs  hereabouts  for  a  good  sweep! 
And  there's  Mr.  Gudgeon  himself — Nathaniel's 
his  chrisom  name." 

A  very  big  burly  man,  curiously  short  in  the 
legs,  made  his  appearance  in  the  doorway,  and 
walking  backwards  across  the  road,  watched  the 
black  column  of  smoke  drifting  slowly  eastward 
on  the  light  breeze. 

So  closely  was  his  attention  fixed  that  he  did 
not  at  once  notice  the  pedestrians  or  the  donkey- 
cart,  and  not  until  he  had  backed  almost  across 
the  road  did  he  suddenly  catch  sight  of  Joe 
Gumley.  Then  he  started  slightly,  and  his  atten- 
tion being  now  divided  between  the  old  sailor 
and  the  chimney  on  fire,  he  failed  to  observe  a 
deep  rut  left  by  a  passing  wagon,  that  had  evi- 
dently been  driven  into  the  pond  to  allow  the 
horses  to  drink. 

The  result  of  the  oversight  was  unfortunate. 
One  of  the  short  legs  disappeared  into  the  rut; 
there  was  a  wild  flourish  of  arms ;  and  then  the 
big  unwieldy  body  toppled  backward  into  the 
pond. 

10 


"Steady,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  steady ! "  cried  Jack   Page  11 


THE    ROAD   TO    LUSCOMBE 

Jack  could  not  forbear  smiling.  Gumley  gave 
a  quiet  chuckle,  and  to  Jack's  surprise  stumped 
on,  not  offering  to  help  the  farmer  out.  But  the 
lad  sprang  forward  impulsively,  splashed  into 
the  water,  and  held  out  his  hands  to  the  misera- 
ble dripping  object  still  floundering  there,  una- 
ble to  gain  a  foothold  on  the  clayey  mud  of  the 
bottom. 

"Steady,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  steady!"  cried  Jack 
encouragingly.  "Haul  on,  sir.  Yo  heave  hoi 
and  up  we  come!" 

"Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Gudgeon,  splutter- 
ing. He  had  evidently  swallowed  more  of  the 
muddied  water  than  he  cared  for.  "But  how — 
ugh! — how  do  you — ugh! — know  my  name, 
sir?" 

"Why,  that  old  sailor  man  told  me — Gumley, 
you  know:  we  hitched  on  some  miles  up  the 
road  there." 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course:  yes,  yes.  I'm  all  of  a 
flutter,  sir;  my  heart  goes  pit-a-pat.  Ugh!  That 
water  is  rank,  and — and  I — I  feel  quite  upset. 
It  was  Gumley;  of  course  it  was :  and  he  told  you 

ii 


JACK   HARDY 

my  name.  Yes,  to  be  sure.  And  you,  sir,  I  might 
guess,  are  a  king's  officer,  sir?" 

"Oh,  yes!  My  ship's  the  Fury''' 

"Why,  to  be  sure!  Come  in,  sir.  You  must 
dry  your  boots.  Take  them  off,  sir.  I  will  take 
off  my  wet  things  and  be  with  you  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. Sit  you  down,  sir." 

Mr.  Gudgeon  had  led  Jack  into  a  large  stone- 
flagged  room,  with  a  low  ceiling  of  whitewashed 
rafters.  He  disappeared,  and  Jack,  left  to  him- 
self, took  off  his  boots  and  stockings  and  sat  on 
the  broad,  high  ledge  of  the  window.  In  one 
corner  he  noticed  a  long  leather-bound  telescope, 
and  taking  it  up  he  looked  out  to  sea.  A  few  fish- 
ing boats  dotted  the  shining  surface,  their  brown 
sails  just  appearing  above  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 
In  the  offing  a  large  lugger  lay,  apparently  hove 
to.  He  was  still  peering  through  the  glass  when 
the  farmer  returned,  carrying  a  tray  with  bottles 
and  glasses.  A  servant  came  after  him,  and  took 
away  the  wet  boots  and  stockings. 

"Now,  sir,"  he  said.  "You  have  your  choice. 
Here  is  brandy,  and  sloe  gin,  and  cider — " 

12 


THE    ROAD   TO    LUSCOMBE 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  a  glass  of  cider  for 
me ;  'tis  a  cool  drink  for  a  hot  day." 

"To  be  sure,"  rejoined  Mr.  Gudgeon; 
"though  for  myself  I  find  brandy  the  best  cure 
for  the  flutters.  You  were  taking  a  peep 
through  my  spy-glass,  sir?" 

"Yes :  a  good  glass." 

"Not  bad,  sir,  not  bad.  And  a  clear  day.  But 
not  much  to  see,  sir,  to-day." 

"No.  There's  a  lugger  in  the  offing;  and 
French  by  the  cut  of  her." 

"Surely  not,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Gudgeon,  taking 
up  the  glass.  "Dear,  dear!  I'm  all  in  a  flutter 
again,  sir.  A  French  lugger,  sir!  'Tis  surely  too 
near  our  coast  to  be  safe." 

"Yes,  and  I  hope  the  Pandora  will  catch  her; 
she's  sailing  this  afternoon." 

"To  be  sure,  sir.  The  impudence  of  these 
Frenchmen!  But  I  don't  think  she's  French, 
after  all;  there's  a  lugger  much  like  her  down 
in  Luscombe  yonder.  And  you're  an  officer  of 
the  Fury?  I've  seen  the  Fury  more  than  once, 
sir.  She  cruised  about  a  good  deal  last  winter  on 

13 


JACK   HARDY 
the  lookout  for  smugglers.   But  she's  laid  up  at 

«r 

Wynport  now,  I'm  told." 

"Yes,  or  I  shouldn't  be  here." 

"Ah!  I  wondered,  now,  what  brought  you  to 
this  quiet  little  place.  Maybe  you  have  friends 
in  the  neighborhood,  sir?" 

"I'm  going  to  see  my  cousin,  Mr.  Bastable.  I 
'dare  say  you  know  him?" 

"Know  the  squire!  To  be  sure:  a  customer  of 
mine.  Ah!  as  I  was  saying,  there's  a  good  deal 
of  smuggling  on  this  part  of  the  coast:  so  the 
common  talk  is,  sir.  Luscombe  yonder  is  sus- 
pected, so  'tis  said.  Mr.  Goodman,  the  new  rid- 
ing-officer, has  his  eye  on  the  village.  But  up 
here  on  the  cliff  I  don't  hear  much  of  what  goes 
on.  I  keep  myself  to  myself,  sir — lead  a  quiet 
life ;  anything  out  of  the  way  puts  me  in  a  flut- 
ter at  once.  And  when  will  the  Fury  be  ready 
for  sea?" 

"In  four  or  five  days." 

"To  be  sure!  And  you  are  Mr.  Bastable's 
cousin!  Well,  now,  to  be  sure!  'Tis  early  days 
for  the  smugglers,  sir:  they  don't  begin,  so  I've 


THE    ROAD   TO    LUSCOMBE 

heard,  much  before  October;  their  work  needs 
dark  nights ;  but  I  hope  you'll  put  'em  down,  sir, 
I  do.  They're  getting  the  neighborhood  a  bad 


name." 


"Well,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  we'll  do  our  best  to  pol- 
ish it  up  for  you.  Now,  d'you  think  those  things 
of  mine  are  dry?  I  am  getting  hungry,  and  my 
cousin,  I  hope,  keeps  a  good  table." 

"To  be  sure,  sir;  a  fine  man,  Mr.  Bastable. 
Though  I'm  only  a  poor  working  farmer,  and 
keep  myself  to  myself,  I  hope  I  may  count  Mr. 
Bastable  a  friend.  You  will  give  him  my  re- 
spects, Mr.  — ?" 

"Jack  Hardy:  that's  my  name.  Thanks  for  the 
cider,  Mr.  Gudgeon :  mighty  good  stuff.  Good- 
by.  I  hope  you'll  be  none  the  worse  for  your 
sousing." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  hope  not.  I  shall  take  no 
harm  unless  I  get  a  return  of  the  flutters." 

He  went  with  Jack  to  the  door. 

"That  is  your  way,  sir,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
path  that  ran  irregularly  across  the  fields  to  the 
right.  "The  coast  winds  a  good  deal  here;  you 


JACK   HARDY 

would  not  think  it,  but  the  path  will  bring  you 
near  to  the  sea.  Bastable  Grange  is  on  the  cliff, 
sir,  the  other  side  of  Luscombe,  a  fine  airy  po- 
sition, though  too  near  the  coast  if  the  French 
should  land,  /  say." 

Jack  set  off  at  a  good  pace,  vaulted  the  many 
stiles  that  crossed  the  field  path,  and  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  found  himself  approaching  a  fine 
old  red-brick  house  nestling  among  trees  at  the 
edge  of  the  cliff.  He  paused  for  a  few  moments 
before  lifting  the  latch  of  the  gate  to  take  a  look 
round.  There,  in  a  hollow  between  the  two 
cliffs,  lay  the  village  of  Luscombe,  its  few  cot- 
tages straggling  from  the  beach  up  the  slope. 
Two  or  three  fishing  smacks  lay  alongside  the 
short  stone  jetty:  others  rocked  gently  in  the  lit- 
tle bay.  A  turn  of  the  path  hid  them  from  sight 
for  a  minute  or  two ;  when  next  they  came  into 
view  Jack  was  surprised  to  see  one  of  the  smacks 
making  under  full  sail  out  to  sea. 

"Smart  work  that!"  he  thought.  "There  was 
no  sign  of  her  putting  off  a  few  minutes  ago. 
The  Luscombe  fishers  would  make  good  king's 

16 


men,  by  the  look  of  it ;  they'll  have  a  visit  from 
the  press-gang  one  of  these  days." 

He  watched  until  the  smack  rounded  the 
point;  then  he  turned,  opened  the  gate,  walked 
up  the  gravel  path,  and  pulled  the  bell  at  the 
door  of  Bastable  Grange. 


CHAPTER  II 

MONSIEUR  DE  FRONSAC 

Jack  was  shown  into  a  little  snuggery,  where 
he  found  a  red-faced,  blue-eyed  gentleman  sit- 
ting deep  in  a  comfortable  arm-chair,  his  legs 
perched  on  a  smaller  chair.  His  black  hair  was 
tied  in  a  short  queue;  he  had  curly  side  whis- 
kers :  and  he  wore  the  full  uniform  of  the  Dor- 
setshire yeomanry — a  tight  red  coat  with  a  high 
stock,  white  buckskin  breeches,  and  big  Hessian 
boots  that  came  to  the  knee. 

"A  young  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  the 
servant. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Cousin  Humfrey?"  said  Jack, 
advancing  with  a  smile  and  outstretched  hand. 

"Who  in  the  world  are  you?'7  said  Mr.  Basta- 
ble,  clutching  the  arms , of  his  chair,  his  eyelids 
squeezed  together  oddly. 

"Oh!  I'm  Jack  Hardy.  Mother  said  I  was  to 
be  sure  and  call.  My  traps  are  coming  after." 

18 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

"They  are,  are  they?  You're  a  pretty  cool 
young  spark,  aren't  you?  I  must  take  it,  I  sup- 
pose, that  you're  my  Cousin  Millicent's  boy, 
eh?" 

"Of  course,  Cousin  Humfrey.  She  said  you'd 
be  glad  to  put  me  up  for  a  day  or  two,  if  I  re- 
minded you  what  friends  you  and  she  were,  I 
don't  know  how  many  years  ago." 

"She  did,  eh?  Well,  you'd  better  give  an  ac- 
count of  yourself.  How  old  are  you,  and  what 
are  you  doing  in  these  parts?  I  don't  suppose 
you  came  all  the  way  from  London  to  remind 
me  of  your  mother." 

"I'm  sixteen,  sir,  and  just  appointed  to  the 
Fury — you  know,  the  revenue  cutter  now  repair- 
ing at  Wynport.  I've  got  a  few  days'  leave,  so 
I've  just  walked  over." 

"So  I  should  suppose.  Your  boots  look  as  if 
you'd  walked  through  half  a  dozen  horseponds 
on  the  way." 

"Only  one,  cousin,"  replied  Jack,  laughing. 
"That  was  in  helping  a  friend  of  yours,  who 
tumbled  over  through  walking  backwards  look- 

19 


JACK    HARDY 

ing  at  a  chimney  on  fire:  Mr.  Gudgeon,  the 
farmer." 

"A  friend  of  mine,  eh?  Well,  not  exactly," 
said  Mr.  Bastable  dryly.  "So  his  chimney  was 
afire." 

"Yes,  though  I  must  say  he  took  it  pretty 
coolly;  didn't  seem  to  remember  it  when  he  got 
back  into  the  house." 

"Oh!  You  went  into  the  house,  then?" 

"Yes,  he  gave  me  some  cider,  and  drank  some 
brandy  himself  for  the  flutters.  He's  not  quite 
the  shape  for  the  flutters,  cousin,  is  he?  Looks 
pretty  solid." 

"And  he  made  himself  agreeable,  eh?  You 
told  him  who  you  were,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  yes !  And  he  as  good  as  said  he  was  glad 
the  Fury  was  getting  ready  for  sea.  Luscombe's 
getting  a  bad  name  for  smuggling,  it  appears, 
and  'tis  time  some  of  us  came  along.  Don't  you 
think  so,  cousin?" 

"Quite  time,  quite  time!"  replied  Mr.  Basta- 
ble. Jack  fancied  he  caught  a  twinkle  in  his 
half-closed  eyes.  "Father  and  mother  quite  well, 

20 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

eh?  And  how  long  have  you  been  a  king's  of- 
ficer?" 

"A  couple  of  years,  cousin.  Of  course  I  had 
to  serve  two  years  as  a  volunteer  first;  then  two 
years  ago  I  was  put  on  the  books  of  the  Ariadne, 
second-rate  frigate,  Captain  Bagot.  Why  on 
earth  they  transferred  me  to  the  Fury  I  can't 
tell — just  as  the  Ariadne  was  going  out  to  join 
Admiral  Nelson's  fleet,  too.  I  call  it  disgust- 
ing." 

"No  doubt  they  thought  you'd  be  more  useful 
to  the  revenue.  Well,  your  traps  are  coming 
after  you,  you  said?  Get  off  those  boots  and 
I'll  introduce  you  to  your  cousins.  I  suppose 
they're  your  cousins,  if  I'm  one.  Ah!  here's  the 
first!" — as  the  door  burst  open,  and  a  girl  ran 
in.  She  wore  a  white  muslin  dress  with  a  pink 
sash,  and  a  chip  hat  was  ^swinging  on  her  arm. 
Seeing  a  stranger  she  stopped,  and  her  cheeks 
flushed. 

"Come,  Kate,"  said  her  father,  "this  is  your 
cousin,  Mr.  Midshipman  Hardy,  come  to  pay 
us  a  visit." 

21 


Kate  Bastable  made  the  formal  little  courtesy 
of  those  days,  to  which  Jack  returned  his  best 
bow. 

"I  came  to  tell  you  dinner  is  nearly  ready, 
father,"  said  the  girl. 

"Goodness  alive,  and  I  haven't  got  out  of  my 
regimentals  yet!  Run  and  send  your  mother 
here,  Kate ;  she  must  say  which  room  your  cousin 
is  to  have.  We  dine  earlier  than  you  fine  London 
folks,  my  lad.  You're  a  good  trencherman,  I'll 
be  bound." 

"I'm  pretty  sharp  set  after  my  walk,  cousin, 
and  we  fellows  can  usually  do  our  duty  with 
knife  and  fork." 

"As  well  as  in  other  matters,  eh? — catching 
smugglers,  for  instance.  Well,  come  along; 
we'll  find  my  wife  and  see  what  she  can  do  for 
you  in  the  way  of  slippers." 

Jack  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  dinner, 
and  with  his  new-found  relatives.  Mrs.  Bastable 
and  he  became  good  friends  at  first  sight.  She 
was  a  pleasant,  fresh-colored  woman  of  forty, 
quiet  in  manner  and  speech,  but  with  a  shrewdly 

22 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

humorous  eye.  Kate  was  fifteen.  She  said  little, 
but  took  stock  of  her  new  cousin  as  he  chattered 
at  the  dinner-table.  The  last  member  of  the  fam- 
ily was  Arthur,  a  boy  of  twelve,  who,  Jack  found 
afterward,  was  not  nearly  so  shy  as  he  looked. 
An  only  son,  he  had  not  been  sent  to  school,  but 
was  tutored  at  home.  The  tutor  formed  the  sixth 
at  table,  a  slight  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a  very 
swarthy  skin  and  intensely  black  eyes,  good  fea- 
tures, and  a  glittering  smile.  He  was  introduced 
to  Jack  as  Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  a  Frenchman 
of  a  noble  house.  He  had  emigrated  a  few  years 
before,  and  settled  in  England  as  a  teacher  of 
languages  and  mathematics.  Monsieur  de  Fron- 
sac bowed  and  smiled  when  the  introduction  was 
made,  and  said  that  he  was  charmed  and  de- 
lighted to  meet  an  officer  of  the  king's  so 
excellent  navy. 

Jack  found  that  he  was  expected  to  do  most  of 
the  talking.  His  cousins  plied  him  with  ques- 
tions about  the  latest  news  in  London.  What 
was  happening  in  India?  Had  Spain  declared 
war?  What  did  the  people  in  London  think  of 


JACK   HARDY 

the  chances  of  a  French  invasion?    Jack  was 
equal  to  the  demands  made  upon  him. 

"Oh,  as  to  India,"  he  said,  "a  day  or  two  be- 
fore I  left  we  got  advice  that  that  Mahratta 
fellow,  Holkar,  had  invaded  our  territories  and 
General  Wellesley  was  after  him.  He'll  soon 
settle  his  hash.  And  Admiral  Keith  is  going  to 
have  a  shot  at  those  flat-bottomed  boats  that 
Boney  has  got  at  Boulogne.  They'll  never  cross 
the  Channel,  not  they.  Praams  they  call  'em: 
miserable  tools;  a  storm  would  knock  'em  to 
pieces;  they  can't  hug  the  wind;  and  the  eight- 
pounder  they've  got  mounted  aft  is  a  fixture, 
so  that  if  we  laid  a  small  boat  alongside,  the  gun 
would  be  useless,  and  they'd  only  have  musketry 
to  resist  with.  And  the  poor  wretches  on  board 
get  so  seasick  if  there's  the  least  swell  that  they 
lie  about  groaning  in  the  hold,  too  weak  to  lift  a 
musket.  One  of  'em  was  captured  last  year  by 
a  gun-brig  of  ours ;  she'd  got  a  little  leeward  of 
Boulogne  and  couldn't  get  back,  and  our  brig 
had  her  by  the  heels  as  she  was  steering  large  for 
Calais.  Our  fellows  don't  believe  old  Boney  in- 

24 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

tends  to  send  'em  across  at  all,  but  only  wants 
to  frighten  us.  By  George!  I  wish  he  would, 
though.  We'd  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  his 
praams,  there's  not  a  doubt  about  that." 

"But  they  might  row  over  in  a  calm,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  Bastable;  "then  our  cruisers  would 
be  helpless." 

"Why,  if  they  did,  cousin,  there'd  be  a  chance 
for  you.  I'd  like  to  see  the  yeomanry  cavalry 
dashing  at  'em  as  they  landed,  sabers  out,  cut  and 
thrust,  ding-dong,  over  you  go.  Oh,  it  won't  be 
so  easy  as  Master  Boney  imagines.  Don't  you 
think  he's  off  his  chump,  cousin? — Beg  pardon, 
Cousin  Sylvia,  I  mean  cracked;  that  is,  mad — 
why,  'tis  said  he's  had  a  medal  struck  to  com- 
memorate his  invasion;  his  own  precious  head 
on  one  side  and  a  figure  of  Hercules  strangling 
the  sea  monster  on  the  other.  The  sea  monster's 
us,  you  know,  Monsieur.  And  he's  got  the  words 
'Struck  at  London,  1804,'  on  the  thing — isn't 
that  cool  cheek?  Better  have  waited  till  he  got 
to  London — don't  you  think  so,  cousin?" 

Thus  he  chattered  on,  amusing  his  relatives 


JACK   HARDY 

i 

with  his  frank  boyish  confidence,  and  especially 
pleasing  Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  as  it  appeared, 
for  the  French  tutor  was  constantly  showing  his 
teeth  as  he  smiled. 

"It  is  good  to  hear,"  he  said  once.  "I  like 
it.  I  do  not  lov  dis  Napoleon ;  truly  he  is  a  mon- 
stair." 

"Makes  a  breakfast  of  babies,  don't  he?"  said 
Jack. 

"That's  rubbish,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Basta- 
ble.  "But  he's  a  monster  all  the  same,  as  Mon- 
sieur says;  and  I  warrant  if  he  does  manage  to 
escape  you  blue-coated  gentlemen  of  the  navy 
he'll  find  us  redcoats  ready  to  meet  him." 

Monsieur  de  Fronsac  retired  immediately 
after  dinner. 

"Gone  to  scribble  poetry,"  said  Mr.  Bastable 
with  a  smile,  when  the  door  was  shut.  "He's  a 
decent  fellow,  and  knows  a  heap  of  mathematics. 
I  fancy  he  must  have  been  crossed  in  love,  for 
he's  always  writing  poetry  about  the  moon  or  the 
trees  or  the  sea — so  Arthur  says,  for  he  never 
shows  his  stuff  to  me.  Now,  we're  early  birds 

26 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

here,  Jack.  We'll  play  a  rubber  with  the  ladies, 
if  you  please,  and  then  to  bed." 

At  breakfast  next  morning  Mr.  Bastable  was 
in  particularly  good  humor.  He  had  been  out 
early,  so  he  said;  there  was  nothing  like  a  ride 
before  breakfast  for  freshening  one  up  and  im- 
proving one's  appetite. 

"By  the  way,  Jack,"  he  added,  "when  I  was 
out  I  heard  that  the  smugglers  made  a  capital 
run  last  night — the  first  of  the  season." 

"The  villains!"  cried  Jack;  "under  my  very 
nose!" 

"Taking  advantage  of  the  Fury's  being  laid 
up  for  repairs,  you  see.  But  no  doubt  you'll  put 
a  stop  to  it  when  once  you  get  to  work — eh, 
Jack?" 

Jack  fancied  there  was  something  quizzical 
about  his  cousin's  smile  as  he  said  this,  and  won- 
dered whether  the  squire  was  "smoking"  him. 
But  he  answered  cheerfully: 

"We'll  see,  cousin.  I  don't  know  what  sort  of 
man  Lieutenant  Blake  is :  only  saw  him  for  the 
first  time  yesterday;  but  if  he's  anything  of  a 

27 


JACK   HARDY 

goer  we'll  give  the  smugglers  a  warm  time,  I 
promise  them." 

"And  how  will  you  set  about  it,  cousin?" 

"Don't  know,  for  my  life!"  said  Jack  with  a 
laugh.  "But  there  are  forty  ways  of  catching 
flies,  and  about  the  same  number  of  tying  knots ; 
and  we'll  find  out  a  way,  you  may  be  sure.  By 
the  by,  cousin,  can  you  tell  me  how  to  get  to  the 
cottage  of  an  old  tar  named  Joe  Gumley?  I  had 
a  chat  with  him  yesterday  as  I  came  here,  and 
I'd  like  to  look  him  up." 

"Yes,  I  can  tell  you.  He's  a  tenant  of  mine. 
But  he  won't  see  you." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  say.  He  won't  see  you.  He  lives 
by  himself  and  never  admits  a  visitor.  He's  most 
unpopular  with  the  village  folk,  and  has  to 
tramp  to  Wynport  to  sell  his  garden  stuff." 

"Why  don't  they  like  him?" 

"Ah,  well !  The  truth  is  he's  an  oddity,  a  very 
queer  fellow." 

This  explanation  by  no  means  satisfied  Jack, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  visit  Gumley  as  he 

28 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

had  intended.  The  sailor's  cottage  stood  some 
distance  farther  along  the  cliff.  After  breakfast 
he  set  off  alone  toward  it.  Within  ten  minutes 
he  came  to  a  stout  wooden  fence  tipped  with 
nails,  and  so  high  that  he  could  only  just  see  over 
it.  Then  the  view  of  the  cottage  itself  was  hid- 
den by  a  mass  of  bushes  and  trees,  the  foliage  of 
which,  though  tinged  with  autumn  brown,  was 
still  thick.  There  was  a  gate  in  the  fence,  but 
no  latch  and  no  bell. 

"An  Tm-the-king-of-the-Castle'  look  about 
this,"  thought  Jack.  He  lifted  his  cane  and  dealt 
the  gate  several  smart  raps.  Immediately  he 
heard  a  dog  rushing  down  the  garden,  barking 
angrily.  Standing  on  tiptoe  he  peered  over,  and 
saw  an  immense  bulldog,  thick-set,  broad-chest- 
ed, with  an  enormous  and  most  ugly  head,  show- 
ing his  teeth  viciously.  The  moment  the  dog 
caught  sight  of  Jack  he  redoubled  his  barking 
and  dashed  forward  against  the  fence,  as  if  fu- 
rious to  get  at  him. 

"Good  dog,  good  dog  I"  said  Jack  soothingly. 
"What's  the  matter  with  you,  you  son  of  a  ten- 

29 


JACK   HARDY 

pounder?  I  say,  Gumley — ahoy!  ahoy!  Gum- 
ley!" 

He  raised  his  voice  to  a  singsong,  and  sent  the 
call  rolling  toward  the  cottage,  rather  enjoying 
the  din  made  by  himself  and  the  dog,  with  a 
hundred  echoes  from  every  dell  and  hollow  in 
the  cliff.  In  a  minute  or  two  he  saw  the  sailor 
stumping  round  the  bushes,  his  head  bare,  his 
shirt  open  at  the  neck,  a  spade  in  one  hand,  and 
in  the  other  a  little  square  board. 

"Oh,  'tis  you,  Mr.  Hardy,  sir.  I  was  digging 
turnips  at  the  back.  Lor',  sir,  all  Luscombe  will 
know  you've  bin  here,  with  this  terrible  row  and 
all." 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do,  and  it  was  your  dog 
that  made  the  row." 

"A  good  dog,  sir.  Living  alone  by  myself, 
you  see,  I  need  a  watch-dog.  Come  in,  sir,  come 


in." 


He  had  removed  a  padlock,  drawn  two  bolts 
and  loosed  two  bars  on  the  inner  side,  and 
thrown  the  gate  open.  Jack  stepped  into  the  gar- 
den, keeping  an  eye  on  the  bulldog,  which  had 

30 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

ceased  to  bark  as  soon  as  Gumley  appeared,  but 
walked  slowly  round  and  round  the  visitor,  snif- 
fing at  his  legs  as  if  choosing  the  best  place  for  a 
bite. 

"There's  no  cause  for  alarm,  sir — leastways 
not  while  I'm  on  deck.  I'd  best  introduce  you 
proper  like,  then  you'll  be  safe  any  time,  fair 
weather  or  foul.  This  here's  Comely;  and  this 
is  Mr.  Hardy  of  the  Fury:  twiggy-voo,  as  the 
mounseers  say?  Now  pat  him,  sir." 

Jack  felt  a  little  uneasy,  but  knowing  that  it  is 
best  to  put  a  bold  face  on  it,  whether  with  dogs 
or  men,  he  stooped  and  patted  the  massive  head. 
With  an  expression  that  seemed  to  him  more 
sinister  than  ever,  the  dog  stuck  out  a  red  tongue 
and  licked  his  hand. 

"Now  all's  snug  and  shipshape,  sir.  Comely's 
your  friend  for  life." 

"Queer  name  that." 

"True,  sir.  It  was  like  this.  I  had  a  notion  of 
calling  him  Handsome,  'cos  handsome  is  as 
handsome  does,  and  he  does  most  uncommon 
handsome.  But  thinking  it  over  between 

31 


JACK  HARDY 

watches,  as  you  may  say,  it  seemed  like  poking 
fun  at  the  poor  beast  that  couldn't  hit  back,  and 
I  cast  about  for  a  name  that  would  mean  the 
same  but  not  quite  so  strong.  I  tacked  about  for 
a  time  without  catching  a  fair  breeze,  sir.  Then 
all  at  once  I  remembered  a  word  in  my  Bible : 
'black  but  comely.'  Comely's  a  good  name, 
thinks  I,  and  his  muzzle's  black,  and  my  name's 
Gumley,  so  Comely  it  shall  be :  and  Comely  it  is, 
sir.  We're  a  pair,  I  can  tell  you,  Comely  and 
Gumley." 

"A  capital  match,"  said  Jack  laughing.  "But 
I  say,  why  do  you  barricade  yourself  in  like 
that?"  Gumley  had  replaced  padlock,  bolts  and 
bars.  "Any  one  would  think  you  were  making 
ready  to  stand  a  siege." 

"Well,  sir,  I  won't  say  'tis  to  be  ready  for 
Boney's  landing,  and  I  won't  say  'tisn't." 

He  was  now  stumping  up  the  path  toward  the 
cottage,  and  said  no  more.  Jack  saw  that  he  did 
not  mean  to  enlighten  him,  and  changed  the 
subject. 

"I  say,  Gumley,  why  didn't  you  help  Mr. 

32 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

Gudgeon  out  yesterday?  You  went  on  and  left 
me  to  do  it." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Gudgeon  and 
me  bean't,  so  to  say,  on  speaking  terms." 

Jack  felt  that  there  was  something  puzzling 
about  all  this.  Gumley  was  not  popular  with  the 
villagers,  Mr.  Bastable  had  said;  the  old  sailor 
had  confessed  to  a  feud  or  at  least  a  coolness  be- 
tween himself  and  his  neighbor  on  the  opposite 
cliff.  There  was  an  honest  look  about  his 
weather-beaten  face;  he  did  not  seem  to  Jack 
morose  or  ill-tempered.  What  was  at  the  bottom 
of  this  strange  attitude  of  antagonism,  shown  by 
the  man's  somewhat  elaborate  defenses?  Well, 
after  all,  it  did  not  matter  to  Jack;  his  leave 
would  be  up  in  a  few  days,  and  then  his  duty 
would  take  him  to  sea. 

He  sat  for  some  time  in  Gumley's  trim  little 
parlor,  where  everything  bespoke  the  handy 
Jack  Tar,  chatting  about  sea  life  in  general  and 
the  Ariadne  in  particular.  Then  the  talk  came 
round  to  Jack's  new  vessel,  the  Fury,  and 
brought  up  the  question  of  smuggling. 

33 


JACK    HARDY 

"Mr.  Gudgeon  said  that  a  good  deal  goes  on 
about  here,"  said  Jack,  "and  by  George!  my 
cousin,  Mr.  Bastable,  told  me  that  the  villains 
ran  a  cargo  ashore  only  last  night.  I  suppose  he 
met  the  riding-officer  as  he  went  for  his  morning 
canter.  Did  you  hear  anything  of  it?" 

"Not  a  word,  sir.  I  keep  myself  to  myself." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gudgeon  said  much  the  same  thing, 
I  remember.  But  I  suppose  you  hear  talk  in  the 
village  sometimes?" 

"Never  bin  into  the  village  since  I  gave  up 
fishing,  sir.  I  get  all  my  victuals  from  Wyn- 
port,  and  often  don't  set  eyes  on  the  village  folk 
from  week-end  to  week-end,  except  at  Church  at 
Wickham  Ferrers  on  Sunday." 

"Why  you're  quite  a  hermit — almost  as  bad 
as  Congleton." 

"True,  sir,  but  I've  never  bin  crossed  in  love, 
'cos  I  never  seed  a  maid  I  fancied  afore  I  lost  my 
leg,  and  there's  ne'er  a  maid  would  take  a  fancy 
to  a  poor  chap  with  a  stump  like  this.  And  I'm 
afeard  of  going  like  Congleton,  sir." 

"Yes,  but,  Gumley,  never  mind  about  that. 

34 


MONSIEUR   DE    FRONSAC 

Tell  me  straight  out,  man;  are  the  people  in 
Luscombe  below  there  smugglers  or  not — the 
whole  crew  of  'em,  I  mean?" 

"Well,  since  you  put  it  plain,  sir,  I  wouldn't 
be  surprised  if  some  of  'em  think  a  sight  more  of 
French  brandy  than  of  Jamaica  rum." 

"That's  no  answer,  you  old  rascal.  Well,  I'm 
going  down  to  the  village  to  have  a  look  round. 
I  saw  some  neat  little  smacks  at  the  jetty  yester- 
day, and  one  of  'em  put  out  pretty  smartly,  too: 
was  uncommonly  well  handled." 

"Well,  sir,  you  be  a  fine,  mettlesome  young 
gentleman;  but  if  so  be  as  I  might  advise  you, 
I'd  say  keep  your  weather-eye  open.  If  so  be 
they  are  a  smuggling  lot  below — well,  they  won't 
be  exactly  main  pleased  to  see  a  king's  officer." 

"Bless  you,  they  won't  know  me.  I'm  not  in 
uniform,  you  see.  Nobody  knows  who  I  am  but 
my  cousins  and  you  and  Mr.  Gudgeon." 

"True,  sir;  and  me  and  Mr.  Gudgeon  keeps 
ourselves  to  ourselves,  to  be  sure." 


35 


CHAPTER  III 

A  FIGHT  IN  LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

Jack  was  accompanied  to  the  gate  in  quite  a 
friendly  way  by  Comely.  He  smiled  as  he  heard 
the  click  of  the  lock  and  bolts  behind  him,  and 
thought  a  good  deal  about  Joe  Gumley  as  he 
made  his  way  down  the  steep  cliff  path  to  the 
fishing  village  below.  It  was  quite  a  small  vil- 
lage: a  few  cottages  clustered  about  a  cobbled 
square,  with  others  climbing  the  cliff,  each  with 
its  little  bit  of  garden. 

The  harbor  was  protected  by  a  natural  break- 
water of  rock  running  out  to  sea,  and  forming  an 
excellent  defense  against  the  southwest  gales. 
A  few  brawny  fishermen  were  lounging  about  in 
jerseys  and  sou'westers,  hands  in  pockets,  pipe  in 
mouth.  Jack  tried  to  enter  into  conversation 
with  them,  but  found  them  strangely  taciturn. 
They  looked  hard  at  him  before  answering  his 

36 


A  FIGHT  IN  LUSCOMBE   MARKET 

questions,  used  few  words,  and  gave  him  very 
little  information.  Mr.  Bastable  laughed  when, 
meeting  Jack  at  luncheon,  he  learned  how  he 
had  spent  the  morning. 

"They're  not  a  talkative  set,"  he  said,  "and 
were  probably  somewhat  overcome  by  the  pres- 
ence of  a  king's  officer." 

"But  how  did  they  know  I'm  a  king's  officer, 
cousin?  We  fellows  don't  go  blabbing  about:  I 
didn't  tell  'em,  and  only  Gumley  and  old  Gud- 
geon know,  besides  you  and  my  cousins." 

"Perhaps  it  was  Kate  that  told  them.  Ladies 
are  great  gossips,  they  say." 

"I'm  sure  Kate  doesn't  go  gossiping  with 
fishermen;  do  you,  Kate?" 

"Indeed,  no,"  said  Kate,  "  'tis  a  shame  to  say 
so,  father." 

"I  didn't  say  so,  now  did  I,  Jack?  I  said  'per- 
haps.' You  don't  suppose  I  went  and  boasted 
of  having  a  king's  officer  as  my  guest,  Mr.  Mid- 
shipman Hardy;  and  Mr.  Gudgeon  and  Gum- 
ley  keep  themselves  to  themselves,  as  they  told 
you,  my  boy." 

37 


JACK   HARDY 

"Well,  I  can't  make  it  out,  and  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter." 

"Probably  they  won't  know  you  again  in  your 
uniform,  Jack." 

"Do  you  wear  a  dirk,  cousin,  and  a  belt  with 
pistols  in  it?"  asked  Arthur  eagerly. 

"You  may  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Basta- 
ble;  "looks  a  regular  bucaneer,  I've  no  doubt. 
You'll  give  old  Gudgeon  the  flutters  if  he  sees 
you  in  all  your  war-paint,  Jack." 

"Oh,  come  now,  cousin  I"  protested  Jack. 
"Our  fellows  don't  look  half  so  fierce  as  you  yeo- 
men. Boney  will  be  terrified  if  he  catches  sight 
of  your  big  hats  and  red  coats." 

"De  uniform  of  de  yeomen  is  ver'  fine,"  said 
Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  smiling.  "It  is  quite 
beautiful.  Dat  is  vat  I  say  to  Monsieur  Arthur; 
dat  de  Monstair  Bonaparte  vill  tr-r-emble  ven 
he  see  de  brave  English  yeomen." 

Jack  was  interested  in  Monsieur  de  Fronsac. 
He  had  never  met  a  Frenchman  before,  and  he 
studied  him  as  he  might  have  studied  a  strange 
animal.  After  lunch  he  spent  some  time  with  the 


A  FIGHT  IN   LUSCOMBE   MARKET 

tutor,  and  learned  something  of  his  history.  It 
appeared  that  on  leaving  France,  a  few  years 
before,  he  had  gone  to  live  on  his  estates  in  Mar- 
tinique, hoping  there  to  escape  the  dangers  to 
which,  as  a  royalist,  he  would  be  exposed  at 
home.  But  on  the  advent  of  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte to  power  his  property  had  been  confiscated 
by  the  Bonapartist  governor.  He  himself  had 
been  proscribed;  he  fled  to  Jamaica,  thence  to 
London.  It  was  hard  for  poor  emigres  to  pick 
up  a  living.  Happening  to  hear  that  a  school  in 
Wynport  required  a  teacher  of  mathematics  he 
had  come  down  from  London,  only  to  find  that 
the  place  had  been  filled.  But  luckily  Mr.  Basta- 
ble  was  at  the  time  in  search  of  a  tutor  for  his 
son.  De  Fronsac  heard  of  it  from  the  master  of 
Wynport  school :  he  applied  and  was  accepted. 

"But  I  hope  vun  day  to  get  back  my  estates, 
ven  dat  Monstair,  dat  impertinent  from  Corsica, 
lose  his  life,  or  ven  he  shall  be  reject  from  de 
throne  he  goes  so  impudent  to  seize." 

Jack  became  a  little  tired  of  Monsieur  de 
Fronsac's  references  to  the  Monstair.  He  never 

39 


JACK   HARDY 

spoke  of  Bonaparte  without  tacking  on  the  epi- 
thet. Of  course,  he  had  good  reason  for  hating 
the  First  Consul  if  he  had  lost  all  his  property 
and  been  compelled  to  teach  for  a  living;  but  it 
was  not  the  English  way  to  call  names — and 
always  the  same  name.  Jack  set  it  down  as  one 
of  the  peculiarities  of  Frenchmen. 

That  evening,  after  dinner,  the  conversation 
once  more  came  back  to  the  subject  which  was 
then  discussed  more  often  than  any  other  among 
the  good  people  of  the  south  coast — the  expected 
landing  of  the  French.  Mr.  Bastable  was  in- 
clined to  think  that  with  so  long  a  coast-line 
open  to  him,  and  so  many  possible  landing- 
places,  Bonaparte  would  only  have  to  choose  his 
time  carefully  to  be  able,  with  any  kind  of 
luck,  to  make  his  descent.  But  Jack  scoffed 
at  the  idea. 

"What  about  Nelson,  and  Collingwood,  and 
Keith,  cousin?  They'd  smash  him  before  he  got 
half-way  across." 

"But  Nelson  is  away  in  the  Mediterranean, 
isn't  he?  He  can't  be  everywhere  at  once,  Jack." 

40 


A  FIGHT  IN   LUSCOMBE   MARKET 

"And  every  one  can't  be  a  Nelson,  but  we  can 
do  our  best." 

"I  wonder  where  Boney  would  think  of  land- 
ing. Somewhere  west,  not  Pevensey  like  the 
Conqueror:  too  near  London.  The  Conqueror 
sailed  from  Boulogne,  didn't  he?" 

"Don't  think  so,  cousin:  Boulogne  isn't  in 
Normandy." 

"Still,  I'm  pretty  sure  it  was  Boulogne.  Mon- 
sieur will  know.  We'll  ask  him." 

"I'll  go  and  find  him;  hope  I  shan't  interrupt 
his  flow  of  poetry." 

Jack  hurried  off,  and  learned  that  the  tutor 
had  gone  out  some  little  time  before. 

"He  said  he  were  gwine  fur  a  promenade," 
said  the  servant  whom  Jack  asked. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?" 

"Down  along  by  Congleton's  Hollow,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  go  after  him.  Tell  your  master 
I'll  be  back  soon." 

A  footpath  over  the  fields  led  to  Congleton's 
Hollow,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
Grange.  Jack  had  visited  the  spot  in  the  after- 


noon  with  his  cousin  Arthur.  They  had  climbed 
over  the  half-ruined  wall,  and  wandered  about 
in  the  dense  plantation.  Under  the  trees  it  was 
quite  dim,  even  in  daylight;  and  where  there 
were  no  large  trees  the  ground  was  thickly  cov- 
ered with  a  tangle  of  bushes  and  ferns.  Black- 
berries and  nuts  grew  in  abundance,  and  the  boys 
had  gathered  them  by  handfuls,  regardless  of 
scratches,  or  rents  in  their  clothes.  Rabbits 
scurried  across  the  path  from  patches  of  tall 
brake ;  squirrels  blinked  out  of  the  foliage.  The 
place  had  a  wild  beauty  of  its  own — the  ro- 
mantic charm  of  a  spot  seldom  visited  by  men. 
Delightful  as  it  had  been  in  the  afternoon  sun- 
light, it  seemed  to  Jack  more  delightful  still  in 
the  dusk  of  this  beautiful  September  evening. 
The  moon  was  just  rising,  throwing  pale  shafts 
of  light  through  the  trees,  deepening  the  shad- 
ows. An  owl  hooted  from  the  top  of  the  Folly; 
as  Jack  picked  his  way  through  the  brake  he 
heard  the  whisk  of  scared  rabbits.  By  the  time 
he  reached  a  part  of  the  ruined  wall  whence  he 
could  look  over  a  stretch  of  open  country  he  had 

42 


A  FIGHT  IN  LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

almost  forgotten  his  errand.  He  sat  on  the  wall, 
dangling  his  legs.  There,  across  the  fields  to  his 
right,  the  moonbeams  shone  on  the  weathercock 
on  Gudgeon's  roof.  Luscombe  was  out  of  sight 
in  the  dip  of  the  cliffs,  but  he  fancied  he  could 
hear  the  grinding  of  the  surf  on  the  shingle. 

Suddenly  he  started.  The  light  southeast 
breeze  blowing  toward  him  brought  the  sound 
of  low  voices  a  little  way  ahead.  Was  it  Mon- 
sieur de  Fronsac  speaking?  Jack  thought  he 
recognized  the  low  smooth  tones.  Should  he  go 
on?  That  would  be  to  risk  overhearing  the 
speakers.  He  hesitated;  he  heard  another  voice, 
deeper,  rougher;  then  both  voices  together,  as 
if  in  altercation. 

"This  won't  do!"  thought  Jack.  "I'd  better 
clear  out."  So  he  sprang  lightly  down  from  his 
perch  and  began  to  retrace  his  steps,  walking 
slowly  as  he  had  come,  and  looking  back  every 
now  and  again  to  see  whether  the  tutor  was  fol- 
lowing. At  last,  just  as  he  reached  the  first  of 
half  a  dozen  stiles  between  himself  and  the 
Grange,  he  saw  Monsieur  de  Fronsac's  figure 

43 


JACK  'HARDY 

come  into  the  moonlight  from  the  shade  of  the 
trees  half  a  mile  behind.  He  was  alone.  Jack 
sat  on  the  stile  and  waited. 

The  Frenchman  walked  with  downcast  eyes 
and  for  a  few  moments  did  not  perceive  him. 
Catching  sight  of  him  at  length,  he  seemed  to  be 
startled,  for  he  halted  and  made  a  strange  up- 
ward movement  of  the  right  hand.  But  his 
pause  was  only  momentary.  He  came  on  again, 
and  as  soon  as  he  was  near  enough  to  see  clearly 
who  was  sitting  on  the  stile,  he  showed  his  teeth 
in  a  brilliant  smile,  and  called  softly: 

"Hi!  Monsieur  Jack,  I  see  you." 

"Well,  I'm  pretty  solid,  Monsieur,"  returned 
Jack  with  a  smile.  "The  place  looks  lonely 
enough  for  a  ghost,  don't  it?  I'd  come  to  meet 
you ;  got  a  question  to  ask." 

"Ah!  truly  de  place  is  romanesque.  It  demand 
poesy.  Often  do  I  come  here,  in  evenings  ven 
de  moon  is  bright,  to  compose  poesy.  It  please 
me,  it  console  me  in  my  miseries.  I  come  dis 
minute  from  composing  a  poem  about  de  moon. 
Vill  I  declaim  it?  Is  Monsieur  interested?" 

44 


A  FIGHT  IN   LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

"Oh,  fire  away!"  said  Jack.  He  thought  he 
might  as  well  humor  this  singular  Frenchman. 
"Stop  a  bit,  is  it  in  French  or  English?  If  it's 
in  French  it'll  be  clean  over  my  head." 

"No,  it  is  in  English.  I  compose  alvays  in 
English  since  dat  Monstair  have  maltreat  me.  I 
recite  it :  listen : 

'  'De  moon,  she  shine  in  de  sky 

O  lovely!   O  s harming! 
Ven  I  look,  vat  can  I?  I  sigh. 
Vat  fine  zing  for  farming!' 

"I  explain  dat:  Your  so  difficult  language  have 
not  good  rhymes :  and  dere  needs  one  for  'sharm- 
ing.'  I  recollect  myself  to  have  seen  de  farmers 
making  hay  by  de  moonlight.  Dat  also  vas 
sharming  sight,  so  I  put  him  in  my  verse." 

"First-rate,"  said  Jack.  "Go  on;  I  like  that 
bit." 

"I  have  no  more  complete  at  present.  It  take 
so  much  to  seek  your  English  rhymes.  Now  in 
my  language — " 

And  Monsieur  de  Fronsac  began  a  long  dis- 


JACK  HARDY 

course  on  French  poetry,  keeping  up  a  steady 
flow  of  talk  which  lasted  till  they  reached  the 
Grange.  Not  till  they  were  entering  the  draw- 
ing-room together  did  Jack  remember  the  ques- 
tion he  had  gone  to  ask. 

"Well,  Jack,  I'm  right,  eh?"  called  Mr.  Bas- 
table. 

"  Ton  my  life,  cousin,  I  forgot  to  ask.  Mon- 
sieur has  been  entertaining  me  with  poetry  and 
things,  and  drove  the  question  clean  out  of  my 
head.  Where  did  William  the  Conqueror  sail 
from,  Monsieur?" 

"I  do  not  know,  I  regret  to  say." 

Mr.  Bastable  laughed. 

"Well,  we're  none  the  wiser.  Come,  Jack, 
take  a  hand  at  cards.  We've  been  waiting  this 
half-hour." 

When  Jack  was  alone  in  his  bedroom,  and 
thought  of  his  meeting  with  De  Fronsac,  he  felt 
vaguely  uneasy.  Why  had  the  tutor  been  so 
anxious  to  explain  his  walk?  Why  had  he  talked 
on  and  on  so  glibly  about  such  a  dull  subject  as 
French  poetry,  with  the  evident  desire  to  prevent 

46 


Jack  from  talking?  Why  had  he  made  no  refer- 
ence to  his  companion  in  the  Hollow?  His 
friends,  his  private  business,  were,  of  course,  no 
concern  of  Jack's;  but  the  position  of  De  Fron- 
sac  in  the  Bastable  household  scarcely  seemed 
consistent  with  stealthy  meetings  in  retired  spots, 
and  Jack,  without  knowing  why,  did  not  like  it. 
But  he  slept  none  the  less  soundly,  and  had  al- 
most forgotten  it  by  the  morning. 

The  third  day  of  his  visit  Jack  had  pretty 
much  to  himself.  The  ladies  drove  early  into 
Wynport  to  see  a  dressmaker,  and  would  not  re- 
turn till  late ;  Arthur  was  engaged  with  his  tu- 
tor; and  Mr.  Bastable  had  to  go  to  the  county 
town  on  yeomanry  business.  Jack  spent  part  of 
the  day  in  roaming  about  the  cliffs,  and  in  the 
afternoon  went  down  to  the  shore,  to  bathe  and 
watch  the  fishing-boats  go  out.  Dinner  had  been 
put  back  an  hour,  so  that  he  delayed  his  return 
to  the  Grange  somewhat  later  than  usual. 

As  he  made  his  way  up  the  hill,  turning  off 
through  a  narrow  lane  to  the  left,  he  tripped 
over  a  cord  that  had  suddenly  been  drawn  tight 

47 


JACK   HARDY 

in  front  of  him.  There  had  been  rain  during  the 
morning,  and  the  place  had  been  carefully  chosen 
by  the  practical  jokers,  who  betrayed  their  pres- 
ence by  a  subdued  chuckle  from  an  alley-way 
on  Jack's  right  as  he  fell  head  forward  into  a 
pool  of  mud. 

Jack  had  served  an  apprenticeship  in  the  art 
of  practical  joking  in  the  Ariadne.  Not  for  noth- 
ing had  he  been  for  two  years  a  "youngster"  in 
a  midshipman's  mess.  He  knew  that  the  best 
way  to  discourage  the  gentle  sport  in  others  was 
to  take  summary  vengeance  on  the  joker — if  he 
could  get  at  him.  He  picked  himself  up  in  a 
trice,  dashed  into  the  alley-way — so  narrow  that 
there  was  scarcely  room  for  more  than  one  to 
pass  at  a  time — and  saw  before  him  the  back  of 
a  hulking  form  disappearing  into  the  dusk,  and 
hiding,  as  Jack  judged  from  the  clumping  of 
heavy  boots,  a  number  of  his  fellow  conspirators 
in  front. 

The  fugitive  was  tall,  but  his  clumsy  body 
seemed  too  heavy  for  his  short  legs,  and  he 
moved  slowly.  Jack  was  upon  him  just  as  he 

48 


A  FIGHT  IN  LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

emerged  from  the  narrow  alley  into  the  open 
square  of  the  village.  Catching  sight,  with  the 
readiness  of  one  accustomed  to  use  his  eyes,  of  a 
convenient  muck-heap — there  were  always  con- 
venient muck-heaps  in  town  or  country  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  when  sanitary  inspection  was 
still  undreamed  of — Jack  neatly  tripped  the 
burly  figure  into  its  soft  and  odorous  embrace. 
There  was  a  great  yell  from  the  other  fugitives, 
who  stopped  their  flight  when  they  found  that 
they  were  not  in  immediate  danger;  and  as  they 
closed  in  toward  the  spluttering  victim,  now 
slowly  raising  himself,  Jack  saw  that  they  were 
some  of  the  boys  and  youths  of  the  village,  whose 
eyes  he  had  often  noticed  upon  him  as  he  passed 
through.  And  there  was  something  strangely 
familiar  in  the  attitude  of  the  hobbledehoy  strug- 
gling clumsily  to  his  feet.  He  was  not  a  fisher 
lad;  where  had  Jack  seen  him  before?  The  cries 
of  the  crowd  enlightened  him. 

"Fight  un,  Bill  Gudgeon!" 

"Heave  un  into  midden,  Billy." 

"Black  his  eyes!" 

49 


JACK    HARDY 

"Give  un  a  nobbier!" 

But  Bill  Gudgeon,  like  his  father,  was  in- 
clined to  keep  himself  to  himself. 

"Not  if  I  knows  it,"  he  said  slowly,  as  he 
sheered  off.  "Maister  and  me  be  quits  now." 

"Chok'  it  all!"  cried  one  of  his  companions, 
a  sturdily  built,  black-browed,  bullet-headed 
fisher  youth  of  some  eighteen  years.  "If  so  be 
you  woan't  fight,  Billy  Gudgeon,  I  will,  so  there 
then.  Be  you  afeard,  maister?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I'm  afraid  of  you,"  said 
Jack,  "but  I  don't  see  what  we've  got  to  fight 
about.  As  your  friend  yonder  said,  we're  quits. 
And  I'm  in  a  hurry.  Good  night." 

"Boo!  boo!"  yelled  the  rest,  encouraged  by 
this  seeming  display  of  the  white  feather.  "Rare 
plucked  un  to  fight  Boney!  Afeard  of  Jan 
Lamiger!  Boo!  boo!" 

Jan  Lamiger  slouched  forward  as  Jack  was 
turning  away,  and  as  an  earnest  of  battle 
cleverly  flicked  off  his  hat.  Jack  was  round  in 
an  instant. 

"Very  well,  Jan,  or  whatever  your  name  is, 

50 


A  FIGHT  IN   LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

if  you're  set  on  fighting,  I  suppose  I  must  oblige 
you." 

He  took  off  his  coat,  folded  it,  and  placed  it 
carefully  on  a  stone  pillar  hard  by:  then  he 
picked  up  his  hat,  set  it  on  top,  and  rolled  up  his 
shirt-sleeves.  The  young  fisherman  meanwhile 
divested  himself  of  his  jersey,  and  listened  with 
a  smug  smile  to  the  encouraging  hints  and  prac- 
tical instructions  of  his  mates. 

Jack  felt  a  trifle  bored.  It  was  much  beneath 
his  dignity  as  a  midshipman  of  his  Majesty  King 
George  to  be  fighting  fisher  lads  in  the  open 
fish-market  of  Luscombe,  but  it  would  have  been 
still  more  beneath  his  dignity  to  refuse  the  chal- 
lenge and  have  the  pack  of  fisher  lads  at  his 
heels.  He  was  relieved  to  find  that  the  Square 
was  quite  deserted  save  for  the  group  about  him. 
A  few  seconds  earlier  he  had  had  an  impression 
that  there  were  a  number  of  fisher  folk  about. 
The  people  had,  in  fact,  hastily  retired  into  their 
cottages  when  they  saw  what  was  afoot.  They 
had  no  objection  to  the  lad's  trouncing  a  king's 
officer,  but  when  that  officer  happened  to  be  a 


JACK   HARDY 

relative  of  Squire  Bastable  at  the  Grange  it  was 
perhaps  just  as  well  not  to  countenance  the  fight 
openly.  For  they  had  no  doubt  that  Jan  Lamiger 
would  win.  He  stood  half  a  head  higher  than 
the  midshipman,  and  was  probably  three  stone 
heavier.  And,  moreover,  he  had  some  little 
reputation  in  the  neighborhood  as  a  boxer  and 
wrestler.  Had  he  not  thrown  all  comers  at 
Wickham  Fair?  And  knocked  Tom  Buggins, 
the  light-weight,  clean  out  of  time  at  Caster- 
bridge  only  last  month? 

It  was  a  somewhat  rough  battle-ground;  the 
cobbles  of  the  Square  would  make  a  hard  fall; 
but  neither  of  the  combatants  had  chosen  the 
spot,  nor  did  it  occur  to  them  to  seek  a  more 
convenient  place  for  their  encounter. 

Those  were  the  days  in  which  skill  in  the  use 
of  the  fists  was  a  real  title  to  consideration  among 
all  classes,  high  and  low.  And  fortunately  for 
Jack,  it  was  an  art  cultivated  with  great  perse- 
verance by  the  young  gentlemen  of  H.  M.  S. 
Ariadne.  A  new  midshipman  had  to  fight  his 
way  into  the  right  to  call  anything  his  own.  So 

52 


A  FIGHT  IN  LUSCOMBE  MARKET 

frequent  were  the  battles  on  board,  that  the  art 
had  reached  a  very  high  degree  of  perfection. 
Even  the  muscular  heroes  of  the  prize-ring 
might  have  envied  the  quickness  of  eye,  the 
wariness,  the  nimbleness  of  movement,  the  skill 
in  feint,  of  these  young  warriors. 

The  group  had  become  by  this  time  enlarged 
by  the  addition  of  several  other  boys,  big  and 
small,  eager  to  see  the  fight  and  the  imminent 
discomfiture  of  the  king's  officer.  They  drew 
away  to  give  the  principals  fighting  room.  The 
two  at  once  got  to  work.  In  the  first  half-minute 
Jack  found  that  he  had  no  novice  to  deal  with, 
and  that  in  sheer  physical  strength  he  was  hope- 
lessly outmatched.  But  the  big  lumbering  fisher 
had  nothing  like  the  quickness  of  wit  or  the 
science  of  the  slighter  midshipman.  Hitherto  he 
had  won  his  bouts  by  staying  power  added  to  a 
certain  rudimentary  knowledge  of  fisticuffs  that 
might  pass  for  skill  among  the  yokels  at  a  coun- 
try fair.  But  in  all  his  previous  battles  he  had 
never  met  an  opponent  who  forced  the  pace  like 
this  one.  Where  was  he?  He  seemed  to  be  on  all 

53 


JACK  HARDY; 

sides  at  once.  Jan  dealt  what  he  firmly  believed 
was  a  staggering  right-hander,  only  to  hit  air 
and  to  feel  a  smart  tap  on  the  left  side  of  his  chin. 
He  flung  out  his  left  hand,  and  before  he  knew 
what  was  happening,  he  felt  a  similar  tap  on  the 
right  side.  This  kept  things  even,  but  it  spoilt 
Jan's  temper.  He  forgot  his  science  in  his  irri- 
tation, and  lurched  forward  to  give  full  effect 
to  his  weight  and  height.  The  result  was  dis- 
astrous. Where  did  that  whack  in  the  left  eye 
come  from?  He  had  hardly  realized  that  he 
could  not  see  quite  so  well  as  usual,  when  some- 
thing very  hard  and  knobby  came  into  his  right 
eye,  and  while  the  stars  were  still  dancing  before 
him  a  neat  left-hander  from  Jack  sent  him  reel- 
ing back  on  to  the  cobblestones,  where  he  sat  up 
and  peered  about  him  dazedly. 

It  was  clear  that  the  battle  was  over  in  a  single 
round.  There  was  no  fight  left  in  Jan.  The 
crowd  was  silent  now.  Several  were  assisting 
Jan  to  rise,  and  Jack  quickly  rolled  down  his 
sleeves,  put  on  his  hat  and  coat,  and  walked 
away,  leaving  the  Square  by  the  alley  through 

54 


A  FIGHT  IN   LUSCOMBE   MARKET 

which  he  had  entered  it.  Perfect  stillness 
reigned  in  the  village;  but  Jack  was  conscious 
that  the  windows  and  doorways  were  now  rilled 
with  faces  watching  the  scene.  He  smiled  as  he 
left  the  village  behind  him. 


55 


CHAPTER  IV 

CONGLETON'S  HOLLOW 

Jack  was  beginning  to  enjoy  himself.  There 
is  something  bracing  in  antagonism :  the  know- 
ledge that  he  was  regarded  as  an  enemy  by  the 
people  of  Luscombe,  so  far  from  daunting  him, 
whetted  his  appetite  for  duty.  He  made  up  his 
mind  to  say  nothing  to  Mn  Bastable  of  what  had 
occurred. 

When  he  got  back  to  the  Grange  he  found  the 
household  bubbling  with  an  excitement  of  its 
own.  Mr.  Bastable  had  brought  back  with  him 
two  new  suits  of  yeomanry  uniform,  and  Tony, 
the  coachman,  and  Andrew,  the  groom,  had  just 
fitted  them  on  and  were  displaying  their  finery 
to  the  admiring  eyes  of  Molly,  the  cook,  and 
Betty,  the  housemaid.  The  men  grinned  sheep- 
ishly as  Jack  passed  them. 

"Bean't  they  fine,  Measter  Jack?"  said  Molly, 
giggling. 

56 


CONGLETON'S   HOLLOW 


"Splendid!    You  won't  be  afraid  of  Boney 


now." 


"Sakes  alive,  no,  sir!  But  I  be  mortal  afeard 
o'  William's  blunderbuss.  It  do  look  a  terrible 
deathly  instrument,  to  be  sure ;  and  what  would 
happen  to  us  if  it  went  off  by  accident  goodness 
only  knows." 

William  was  the  gardener,  who,  though  too 
old  and  bent  to  make  an  efficient  yeoman,  had 
been  armed,  like  Overcombe,  the  butler,  with  a 
blunderbuss,  Mr.  Bastable  having  thought  it 
worth  while  to  give  the  men  of  his  household 
weapons  of  defense. 

"You  never  know,"  he  said  to  Jack;  "Boney 
may  land  or  he  may  not;  if  he  lands,  the  more 
men  we  have  to  fight  him,  the  better;  and  a 
blunderbuss  behind  a  wall  may  do  some  damage. 
I'm  going  to  exercise  'em  every  day." 

"And  what  about  Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  cou- 
sin? Will  you  arm  him,  too?" 

"Well,  I  didn't  intend  to.  I  thought  I  could 
hardly  expect  him  to  fight  against  his  own 
countrymen.  But  he  is  so  bitter  against  the 

57 


JACK   HARDY 

Monster  that  he  declares  he  won't  remain  neu- 
tral. While  his  countrymen  lick  the  feet  of  the 
Monster,  he  says,  he  disowns  'em.  He's  got  a 
pistol,  and  uncommon  handy  he  is  with  it,  too. 
There  he  is,"  he  added,  as  a  loud  report  was 
heard ;  "he's  practising  behind  the  coach-house. 
Let  us  go  and  see  what  he  can  do." 

De  Fronsac  smiled  when  he  saw  them. 

"You  see,  Messieurs,  I  exercise  myself,"  he 
said.  As  he  spoke  he  stooped  and  lifted  a  horn 
button  from  the  ground.  Walking  up  to  the  wall 
he  placed  the  button  edgewise  against  a  brick; 
turned,  stepped  a  dozen  paces,  swung  round,  and 
almost  without  seeming  to  take  aim,  fired.  The 
button  was  shattered  into  small  fragments. 

Jack  could  not  but  envy  the  Frenchman's  skill. 

"You  must  have  had  plenty  of  practice,  Mon- 
sieur," he  said. 

"Yes,  truly.  Ve  of  the  noblesse  know  to  use 
de  pistol,  assuredly." 

Next  day  there  was  to  be  a  yeomanry  parade 
at  Wickham  Ferrers.  Arthur  begged  off  his  les- 
sons for  the  day,  wishing  to  go  with  Jack  to  see 

58 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

the  training.  There  were  no  horses  for  them  to 
ride  or  drive,  Mr.  Bastable's  three  being  re- 
quired to  mount  himself  and  his  men,  so  they  had 
to  walk.  It  was  only  six  miles;  they  started 
early,  and  were  on  the  field  before  the  troops 
arrived.  They  got  a  good  deal  of  amusement  out 
of  the  scene.  Many  of  the  yeomen  were  raw 
recruits  who  found  the  management  of  horses 
and  arms  at  the  same  time  somewhat  beyond 
them.  Falls  were  frequent,  and  the  officers  got 
very  red  in  the  face  with  the  exertion  of  com- 
manding and  countermanding.  When  the  pa- 
rade was  over,  the  two  boys  had  early  dinner 
with  Mr.  Bastable  and  the  other  officers  at  the 
Wickham  Arms,  and  started  to  walk  back  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening. 

They  came  by  a  path  that  led  past  the  tower 
once  inhabited  by  the  melancholy  Congleton. 
Jack  looked  up  at  it,  wondering  what  sort  of 
place  that  lonely  room  at  the  top  was.  But 
Arthur  said  that  the  only  doorway  was  strongly 
barricaded,  and  Jack  was  not  inclined  to  waste 
time  in  breaking  in.  Another  half-mile  brought 

59 


JACK   HARDY 

them  to  the  middle  of  the  Hollow.  Jack  had  not 
mentioned  the  incident  of  two  nights  before;  it 
would  seem  too  much  like  prying  into  De  Fron- 
sac's  affairs;  but  he  was  thinking  of  it  when  a 
shot  rang  out  from  the  depths  of  the  copse,  fol- 
lowed by  a  cry.  Arthur  paused  in  the  act  of  cap- 
turing a  belated  butterfly. 

"What's  that,  Jack?" 

"A  cry  for  help!  Come  on  I" 

He  vaulted  the  wall ;  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion Arthur  scrambled  over;  and  they  dashed 
toward  the  thickest  part  of  the  wood,  Jack  a  few 
yards  ahead.  Heedless  of  scratches  and  tears 
they  pushed  through  the  tangle  in  the  direction 
of  the  sounds,  and,  Jack  suddenly  finding  him- 
self blocked  by  a  thick  clump  of  brambles,  Ar- 
thur came  panting  up  to  him. 

"Over  there,  Jack,  I  think!"  he  said.  "I  heard 
some  one  moving." 

He  pointed  to  the  left.  They  listened;  there 
was  no  sound  but  the  ripple  of  a  tiny  stream. 

"Let's  go  on!"  said  Jack  in  a  whisper,  pointing 
ahead.  "  'Twas  there  the  sound  first  came  from." 

60 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

He  disentangled  himself  from  the  bush,  not 
without  damage  to  hands  and  clothes,  and  skirt- 
ing the  obstacle,  the  two  pushed  still  deeper  into 
the  wood,  dim  in  spite  of  the  glow  of  the  wester- 
ing sun.  In  a  few  moments  they  saw  through  the 
trees  a  more  brightly-lit  patch  of  ground,  and 
came  to  an  open  glade,  covered  with  fern  and 
tall  grass  run  to  seed.  At  the  far  side  stood  the 
ruins  of  a  large  timber  summer-house,  built  of 
logs  something  like  those  of  the  pioneers  in 
America  of  which  Jack  had  read.  It  was  some- 
what dilapidated.  But  what  took  his  attention 
immediately  was  the  figure  of  a  man  sitting  on 
one  of  the  fallen  logs,  apparently  stanching  with 
a  red  handkerchief  a  wound  in  the  head, 

As  the  two  boys  made  their  appearance  at  the 
edge  of  the  glade  the  man  started  and  tried  to 
rise;  but  he  staggered  back  with  a  groan,  and 
continuing  clumsily  to  stanch  his  wound,  eyed 
them  sullenly  with  uneasy  suspicion  as  they  ap- 
proached. 

Jack  went  up  to  him  impulsively. 

"We  heard  a  shot  and  a  cry.  Did  you  call 

61 


JACK   HARDY 

out?"  he  asked.  "You  are  hurt.  Can  we  do  any- 
thing?" 

The  man  was  an  undersized,  mean-featured, 
ill-conditioned  looking  fellow.  He  had  a  low 
beetling  brow,  and  his  cheeks  were  black  with 
the  unshorn  growth  of  several  weeks.  He  was 
evidently  badly  hurt,  and,  villainous  though  he 
looked,  Jack  was  eager  to  aid  him. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  the  man,  in  a  low  and 
surly  tone,  with  a  slight  foreign  accent.  "I  am 
getting  .better,  if  only  the  bleeding  would  stop!" 

Jack  could  see  the  handkerchief  was  drenched 
with  blood. 

"You  were  shot!  Who  fired?"  he  asked. 

"Ah,  who?  I  want  to  know.  It  was  all  at  once. 
I  did  not  see." 

"And  how  did  it  happen,  then?" 

"Why,  I  walk  along,  looking  straight  in  front, 
when  behind  me  a  shot  is  fired.  I  feel  the  pain. 
I  call  out;  the  pain  indeed  is  no  little;  see,  the 
bullet  cut  my  scalp  three  inches  long,  at  least. 
A  little  lower,  and  without  doubt  I  am  a  dead 


man." 


62 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

"And  you  did  not  see  who  fired?" 

"No,  how  can  I?  I  turn  round;  but  the  villain 
hears  you  as  you  come,  and  he  escapes.  That  way 
I  hear  him  go." 

He  pointed  in  the  direction  suggested  by  Ar- 
thur. 

"It  was  some  robber,  without  doubt,"  he  ad- 
ded. 

Jack  looked  uneasily  around.  Where  was  the 
man?  Perhaps  still  in  the  copse  ready  to  repeat 
his  shot.  But  with  another  glance  at  the  victim 
Jack  felt  that  there  was  something  strange  in  his 
story.  Who  would  rob  an  ill-clad,  dirty-looking 
fellow  like  this?  He  did  not  appear  worth  the 
pains.  And  what  had  brought  him  to  the  Hol- 
low? He  was  certainly  a  foreigner;  the  copse 
was  off  the  highway;  what  was  he  doing  there? 

From  beneath  his  black  shaggy  brows  the  man 
was  keenly  watching.  Apparently  he  saw  by 
Jack's  expression  that  doubts  were  crossing  his 
mind.  Still  dabbing  his  head  he  began  to  speak 
again. 

"I  am  unlucky.  I  am  of  Spitalfields,  a  silk 

63 


JACK    HARDY 

weaver.  At  Wickham  Ferrers  I  have  at  the  inn 
fine  silks.  I  visit  the  nobility  and  gentry;  they 
give  me  orders.  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Bastable — the  squire,  people  call  him.  He 
is  rich ;  his  lady  will  buy  my  silks." 

"But  this  is  not  the  way  to  Mr.  Bastable's." 

"Is  it  not?  They  told  me  there  was  a  short  cut 
through  the  wood.  Ah!  the  villains!  It  is  a  trap. 
They  had  me  here  to  shoot  me.  Yes,  that  is  it." 

"And  your  samples?" 

The  man  started. 

"Yes,  my  samples,"  he  said  hurriedly,  looking 
round.  "They  steal  them.  But  I  have  others  at 
Wickham  Ferrers,  at  the  inn.  I  go  for  them  at 


once." 


He  rose  as  he  spoke.  Erect,  he  stood  a  head 
shorter  than  Jack. 

"I  beg  you  keep  close  to  me  till  we  are  out 
of  the  wood.  Ah!  I  feel  sick,  I  am  not  able  to 
walk  so  far.  I  am  shaken ;  I  can  not  wait  on  a 
lady  this  evening.  Can  you  tell  me  a  lodging  in 
the  village?" 

"Do  you  know  of  one,  Arthur?" 

64 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

"There's  old  Mother  Philpot;  she  could  put 
him  up." 

"I  thank  you.  Philpot:   I  will  remember  the 


name." 


The  boys  walked  with  him  until  they  reached 
the  edge  of  the  plantation.  Then  Arthur  pointed 
out  the  path  that  led  down  to  the  village;  the 
man  refused  their  offer  of  further  assistance,  and 
when  he  had  gone  from  sight  they  struck  off  at 
an  angle  toward  the  Grange. 

Arthur  was  greatly  excited  at  the  incident,  and 
talked  about  it  all  the  way  home.  Jack  was  puz- 
zled. It  seemed  so  unlikely  that  a  peddler  carry- 
ing silks  should  go  so  far  out  of  his  way,  and 
that  he  should  be  set  upon  and  robbed  of  a  bun- 
dle of  samples  when  the  more  valuable  bulk  of 
his  wares  lay  at  Wickham  Ferrers. 

At  dinner  he  mentioned  the  occurrence.  Mr. 
Bastable  was  as  much  annoyed  as  concerned. 

"This  won't  do,"  he  said.  "We're  a  peaceable 
and  law-abiding  folk  here." 

"The  smugglers,  cousin?" 

"Oh!  the  smugglers!"  Mr.  Bastable's  face 

65 


JACK   HARDY 

again  wore  that  strange  quizzical  smile  that  Jack 
had  noticed  whenever  smuggling  was  mentioned. 
"That's  another  matter.  I  say  we're  a  law-abid- 
ing folk.  There  hasn't  been  a  robbery,  an  assault, 
or  anything  of  that  kind,  for  years.  So  near  the 
Grange,  too.  As  a  justice  of  the  peace,  I  must 
see  that  fellow  and  get  a  description  of  the  as- 
sailant; we'll  raise  the  hue  and  cry  and  have  him 
fast  by  the  heels,  I  warrant  him.  I'll  send  Tony 
to  Mother  Philpot  at  once." 

"He  said  he  didn't  see  the  man  who  fired  the 
shot." 

"Nonsense.  How  could  any  one  take  his  sam- 
ples without  being  seen?" 

"Permit  me,"  said  De  Fronsac,  smiling. 
"From  vat  Monsieur  Jack  says,  de  poor  man  is  a 
compatriot.  He  is  a  weaver  of  Spitalfields,  but 
he  talk  viz  a  foreign  accent.  De  French  families 
in  Spitalfields  have  been  dere  so  many  genera- 
tions dat  dey  are  now  English;  dey  vould  have 
no  accent,  and  dis  poor  man  must  be,  as  I  myself, 
a  victim  of  de  troubles  in  France  of  dis  day — 
perhaps  he  is  a  victim  of  dat  Monstair.  Vill  it 

66 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

not  be  convenient  dat  I  go  to  see  him  at  his  lodg- 
ment, and  speak  to  him  in  his  own  language,  and 
learn  all  dat  he  has  to  tell?" 

"  'Tis  very  good  of  you,  Monsieur;  but  I  don't 
want  to  spoil  your  dinner,  and  this  must  be  done 
at  once,  or  the  villain  will  get  away." 

"De  dinner,  it  is  noding!"  said  De  Fronsac 
with  a  smile,  not  perceiving  the  little  grimace 
that  for  an  instant  showed  itself  on  Kate's  lips, 
or  the  glance  exchanged  between  her  and  her 
mother.  "I  vill  go  at  once.  I  do  anyzing  to  serve 
a  friend  like  you,  Monsieur,"  he  said,  with  a  low 
bow  as  he  rose. 

After  De  Fronsac's  departure  the  family  dis- 
cussed the  incident  at  length,  Mr.  Bastable  be- 
coming more  and  more  indignant  as  he  thought 
of  the  outrage  committed  in  that  quiet  spot  and 
so  near  his  own  doors.  But  Jack  felt  very  un- 
easy. He  could  not  help  connecting  the  event 
with  the  voices  he  had  heard  in  the  copse  two 
nights  before.  The  speakers  had  seemed  to  be  in 
altercation;  one  of  them  had  been  De  Fronsac. 
And  De  Fronsac  had  offered  to  go  and  question 

67 


JACK    HARDY 

the  injured  man.  Jack  wondered  whether  he  had 
better  tell  his  cousin  what  was  passing  through 
his  mind,  but  he  did  not  like  to  make  him  uneasy 
or  suspicious  if,  after  all,  there  was  no  cause  for 
it.  So  he  decided  to  say  nothing — at  least,  until 
De  Fronsac  had  reported  the  result  of  his  inter- 
view. 

The  family  were  in  the  drawing-room  when 
the  tutor  returned. 

"I  have  accomplish'  my  mission,"  he  said.  "I 
am  hot;  I  valk  fast.  De  man  is  indeed,  I  regret 
to  say,  a  compatriot.  He  is  in  England  from  a 
young  man;  vid  his  parents  he  arrive  fourteen 
years  ago,  ven  de  troubles  began.  I  dink  he  is 
honest  man.  He  see  only  very  little  bit  of  de 
man  vat  shoot  him,  but  it  seem  he  vas  short,  and 
zick,  and  vid  red  hair.  Dat  is  vun  zing  he  know : 
de  man  had  de  hair  red." 

"Red-haired  men  are  as  common  as  black- 
berries in  these  parts,"  said  Mr.  Bastable.  "That 
won't  help  us  much.  Why  didn't  the  fellow  use 
his  eyes  to  better  purpose?  I  warrant,  if  a  man 
shot  me  I'd  know  a  little  more  about  him.  How- 

68 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

ever,  I'll  send  Tony  to  Wickham  Ferrers,  and 
we'll  have  some  men  out  scouring  the  country. 
Unluckily  'tis  getting  dark." 

Mr.  Bastable  went  to  bed  later  than  usual  that 
night,  in  case  the  man  should  be  caught  and 
brought  before  him  as  a  justice  of  the  peace  for 
committal.  But  the  searchers  had  made  no  dis- 
covery, and  the  squire  at  last  retired,  going 
round  the  house  with  more  than  usual  care  to 
see  that  doors  and  windows  were  carefully 
bolted. 

Next  morning  they  were  seated  at  breakfast 
when  Tony  knocked  at  the  door  and  came  in 
with  a  face  full  of  news. 

"Please,  sir,  there's  bin  housebreaking  now. 
Mother  Philpot's  house  were  broke  into  last 
night,  and  the  Mounseer  carried  off." 

"What!  whati"  shouted  Mr.  Bastable  with  a 
very  red  face,  holding  upright  the  knife  and  fork 
with  which  he  was  carving  a  fine  piece  of 
pickled  pork. 

"  'Tis  true,  sir.  Mother  Philpot  were  just 
gwine  up  along  to  roost,  when  there  come  a 

69 


JACK   HARDY 

knock  at  the  door.  She  opened,  poor  soul,  and 
three  men  with  faces  black  as  sut  pushed  past. 
One  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  told  her  to  be 
mum  and  no  harm  would  come  o't;  t'others  went 
into  Mounseer's  chimmer  and  pulled  un  out  as 
soon  as  they'd  got  his  coat  and  things  on,  and 
took  un  away.  He  was  all  a-shaking,  sir. 
Mother  Philpot  says,  says  she :  *A  were  a-trem- 
bling  like  an  apsen,  and  so  were  I !' ' 

"This  is  monstrous!"  cried  Mr.  Bastable, 
pushing  back  his  chair. 

"Alas!  my  compatriot  is  in  danger  yet  still," 
said  De  Fronsac,  carefully  folding  his  napkin. 

"And  the  silks !  I  had  set  my  heart  on  a  plum- 
colored  dress,  Humfrey,"  said  Mrs.  Bastable. 

"Silks!  Fiddlesticks!  'tis  an  outrage;  'tis  con- 
tempt of  court!  'tis — 'tis — hang  it!  I  don't  know 
what  it  isn't.  Tony,  get  my  horse  saddled.  I'll 
ride  over  to  Wickham  myself,  and  get  the  colo- 
nel to  scour  the  country  with  dragoons,  or  we'll 
send  to  Budmouth  for  those  fellows  of  the  Ger- 
man Legion,  and  see  what  they're  good  for.  We 

70 


CONGLETON'S    HOLLOW 

can't  allow  this  sort  of  thing  in  Luscombe,  and 
by  George!  we  won't." 

The  angry  squire  strode  away,  leaving  his 
breakfast  unfinished. 

"Your  poor  father  will  be  so  hungry,  and  so 
bad-tempered  all  day,"  said  Mrs.  Bastable, 
whom  nothing  seemed  to  ruffle.  "Jack,  will  you 
carve  the  pork?  You  have  not  finished,  Mon- 
sieur de  Fronsac?" 

"Absolutely,  Madame,"  said  the  Frenchman 
with  a  bow  and  a  smile.  "Dere  is  yet  an  hour 
before  ve  study;  I  vill  valk  to  de  village  and 
back.  De  fresh  air  it  is  salubrious ;  and  de  fisher- 
men interess  me.  My  estates  vere  in  Brittany; 
and  in  my  days  of  youth  I  pass  much  time  among 
fishermen.  Ven  I  come  back,  ve  vill  study  de 
properties  of  angles,  Monsieur  Arthur." 

And  with  a  smile  Monsieur  de  Fronsac  left 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  V 
A  MIDNIGHT  EXCURSION 

"I  know!"  said  Arthur  that  evening,  coming 
up  to  Jack,  who  was  practising  skittles  in  an  al- 
ley behind  the  house.  He  looked  up  slyly  in 
Jack's  face. 

"You  do,  do  you?  And  what  do  you  know?" 

"About  you." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  do.  I'm  Jack  Hardy, 
son  of  Major  James  Hardy,  late  of  the  East 
India  Company's  service,  and — " 

"Didn't  he  touch  you  at  all?" 

"Who?  Father?  Yes,  he  used  to  lay  it  on 
pretty  thick  when  I  was  a  young  un  like  you." 

"Jan  Lamiger,  I  mean." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?  And  what  do  you  know 
about  Jan  Lamiger,  may  I  ask?" 

"Tony  told  me.  He  says  Jan  Lamiger  has  got 
two  black  eyes  and  a  green  nose.  Oh!  don't  I 
wish  I'd  seen  it!  Just  don't  I!" 

72 


A   MIDNIGHT    EXCURSION 

"Well,  my  young  cockchafer,  you  hold  your 
tongue  about  it.  I  don't  want  it  all  over  the 
country  that  a  king's  officer  has  been  sparring 
with  a  lout  like  Jan  Lamiger." 

"All  right.  You  needn't  be  stuck  up  about  it. 
Did  he  go  squash?" 

"Your  language  is  not  very  choice,  Master 
Bastable.  Hullo!  There's  Gudgeon's  chimney 
on  fire  again." 

"It's  always  on  fire." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"So  it  is — in  the  winter." 

"Well,  I  s'pose  he  doesn't  have  fires  in  the 
summer,  but  it  isn't  winter  yet." 

"I  don't  care.  I've  seen  the  chimney  smoking 
away  like  that  often  enough ;  sometimes  twice  a 
week." 

"That's  rather  curious,  isn't  it?  Doesn't  he 
ever  have  'em  swept?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  asked  Bill  Gudgeon  about  it 
once,  and  he  said  they  can't  afford  sea-coal,  and 
burn  up  all  their  muck  like  that." 

"Just  the  sort  of  answer  I  should  expect  from 

73 


JACK    HARDY 

him.  Well,  there's  your  tutor  coming  to  teach 
you  a,  b,  ab,  b,  a,  b,  bab.  Cut  away!" 

"I  say!" 

"Well,  what  is  it  now?" 

"I  hate  Frenchmen." 

"A  very  wise  and  proper  thing  for  an  English 
boy." 

"And  I  hate  lessons." 

"Very  wrong.  You'll  grow  up  a  dunce  and 
disgrace  to  the  name  of  Bastable.  Cut!" 

"Bother!" 

He  made  a  wry  mouth  and  went  slowly  away. 
Jack  smiled. 

"He'll  do!"  he  said  to  himself.  "But  I  wonder 
why  Gudgeon's  chimneys  seem  so  uncommonly 
foul.  I  think  I  must  pay  Bill's  father  a  visit 
some  day." 

He  mentioned  the  matter  of  the  chimney  to 
Mr.  Bastable  when  that  gentleman  returned 
later  in  the  day,  after  starting  the  chase  for  the 
rogues  who  had  dared  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
law-abiding  Luscombe.  Mr.  Bastable  laughed. 

"Yes,  Gudgeon  has  an  uncommon  quantity  of 

74 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

muck  on  his  farm,"  he  said,  "but  some  good  stuff, 
too — some  uncommonly  good  stuff." 

Jack  did  not  regard  this  as  a  very  satisfactory 
explanation. 

That  night  he  was  roused  from  a  very  heavy 
sleep  by  a  touch  on  his  arm. 

"Who's  that?"  he  cried,  springing  up  at  once. 

"Only  me,"  said  Arthur  in  a  whisper.  "I  say, 
Jack,  I  heard  some  one  moving  about  below.  It 
seemed  to  be  in  De  Fronsac's  room." 

"Well,  he's  stumping  about  doing  some  more 
poetry  perhaps.  Go  to  bed." 

"But  I  believe  he's  gone  out." 

"  'Tis  rather  a  close  night.  Perhaps  he  wanted 


air." 


"I  believe  he  knows  something  about  that  fel- 
low who  was  shot.  I  watched  his  face." 

"Oho!" 

Jack  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  boy's  sus- 
picions jumped  so  nearly  with  his  own. 

"Look  here,  who've  you  told  that  to?" 

"Only  you." 

"That's  all  right.  I'm  going  out." 

75 


"So  am  I,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

"I  don't  think  so.  I'm  not  going  to  make  a 
row  opening  doors.  I'm  going  out  at  the  win- 
dow^ 

"If  you  do,  I  will,  too." 

"All  right.  Go  and  pull  on  some  things  and 
be  back  here  in  fifty-nine  seconds.  Sharp!" 

The  boy  hurried  away. 

De  Fronsac's  room  was  just  below,  on  the 
ground  floor.  It  had  once  been  a  parlor,  but  lit- 
tle used,  and  when  the  tutor  begged  to  have  it 
for  his  bedroom,  Mrs.  Bastable  made  no  objec- 
tion. It  had  French  windows  opening  on  to  the 
lawn,  and  De  Fronsac  said  it  would  be  so  con- 
venient for  him,  for  he  could  go  out  before  the 
household  was  astir,  and  compose  poems  on  the 
Dawn,  or  satiric  odes  to  the  Monstair. 

Arthur  was  back  as  soon  as  Jack  had  pulled  on 
his  coat,  breeches,  and  boots. 

"Ever  climb  down  a  rain-pipe?" 

"No." 

"Well,  you've  got  to  now.  I'll  go  first,  to  be 
ready  to  pick  up  the  pieces.  Hist!  What's  that?" 

76 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

Jack  had  spoken  in  a  whisper.  Now  through 
the  open  window  he  heard  a  sound  as  of  a  latch 
falling.  Going  to  the  window  he  peered  cau- 
tiously out  from  behind  the  curtain.  For  a  few 
moments  he  saw  nothing.  It  was  a  dark  night, 
but  the  moon  was  rising,  and  he  thought  he  de- 
tected a  "dark  figure  moving  along  in  the  shadow 
of  the  wall.  The  figure  went  furtively  on  until 
the  wall  ended  and  a  fence  began;  then  Jack  lost 
sight  of  it. 

"You  were  right,  Arthur,"  whispered  Jack. 
"Don't  look  like  making  up  poetry,  either.  Come 
along." 

Looking  out  to  make  sure  that  the  figure  was 
no  longer  in  sight,  he  slipped  over  the  window- 
sill,  slid  down  the  rain-pipe  with  a  sailor's  ease, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  stood  on  the  lawn.  Arthur 
hesitated  for  a  moment  at  the  sill,  then,  plucking 
up  his  courage,  he  let  himself  over  and  grasped 
the  pipe.  For  a  few  feet  he  managed  well 
enough;  then  he  lost  his  head  and  his  grip  to- 
gether, and  came  down  with  a  rush,  to  be  caught 
by  Jack,  who  staggered  under  his  weight. 

77 


JACK   HARDY 

"Well  tried,  youngster.  No  damage  done?" 

"No,"  replied  Arthur,  not  thinking  it  neces- 
sary to  tell  that  he  had  two  or  three  grazes  on  his 
wrists  and  legs,  and  that  he  had  knocked  his  nose 
against  one  of  the  joints  of  the  pipe. 

The  two  boys  hurried  down  the  garden, 
passed  through  a  gap  in  the  fence  made  by  re- 
moving two  of  the  palings,  and  set  off  in  the 
reverse  direction,  toward  the  front  of  the  house. 
Jack  chose  this  course  almost  by  instinct;  some- 
how he  felt  sure  that  De  Fronsac  was  making  to- 
ward the  cliff.  Between  this  and  the  house  ran 
the  highroad.  On  reaching  the  road,  Jack  looked 
up  and  down:  it  ran  straight  for  at  least  a  third 
of  a  mile  in  each  direction.  No  figure  was  in 
sight;  yet  Jack  was  sure  that  unless  De  Fronsac 
had  actually  run  he  could  not  have  already  got 
so  far  as  a  third  of  a  mile  ahead;  and  the  road 
lay  so.  white  in  the  moonlight  that  no  person 
could  move  along  it  without  being  plainly 
seen. 

"No  good  going  on  unless  we  can  see  him," 
said  Jack. 

78 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

"Perhaps  he  has  gone  by  the  beach,"  suggested 
Arthur. 

"Right.  The  tide's  full,  but  there's  always 
room  to  walk  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs.  We'll 
chance  it." 

They  ran  across  the  road,  vaulted  the  low  wall 
on  the  other  side,  and  doubled  over  the  two  fields 
separating  them  from  the  edge  of  the  cliffs.  As 
they  approached  the  steep  zigzag  leading  down 
to  the  shore  they  went  more  carefully.  They  did 
not  immediately  begin  the  descent,  but  made 
their  way  to  a  jutting  portion  of  the  cliff  whence 
they  could  get  a  good  view  of  the  shore  on  either 
hand. 

"We  can't  see  him  if  he's  down  there,"  said 
Arthur,  still  in  a  whisper. 

"No,  the  shadow's  too  black,"  replied  Jack. 
"And  we  can't  hear  him,  either.  Wish  it  was 
sand!  The  rollers  make  such  a  noise  on  that 
shingle,  and  the  tide's  too  high  for  any  one  to 
walk  on  the  sands." 

But  he  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when, 
looking  to  the  left,  he  saw  a  black  shade  on  the 

79 


JACK   HARDY 

shingle,  at  a  point  where  a  mass  of  rocks  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff  interrupted  the  direct  path.  It 
moved  a  few  yards,  and  again  disappeared.  That 
was  enough  for  Jack. 

"There  he  is!"  he  whispered.  "Take  care, 
youngster ;  we  don't  want  any  broken  necks." 

Quickly  lowering  himself  over  the  steep  side 
of  the  cliff  until  his  feet  touched  the  zigzag  path, 
he  began  to  race  down  as  quickly  as  the  need  for 
quietness  permitted,  Arthur  following  somewhat 
less  rapidly.  At  the  foot  he  waited  for  his  cousin, 
then  both  set  off  toward  the  village,  the  direction 
in  which  they  had  seen  the  shadow  move. 

He  almost  wished  now  that  he  had  refused  to 
let  Arthur  come  with  him,  for  while  the  sound 
of  one  person  running  on  the  loose  shingle  might 
pass  unheard,  it  was  not  so  likely  that  two  could 
run  with  the  same  security.  But  he  did  not  care 
to  send  the  boy  back  now,  so  they  went  on  to- 
gether, more  slowly  than  he  would  have  done 
alone. 

De  Fronsac  must  have  walked  rapidly,  for  it 
was  not  until  they  had  nearly  reached  the  village 

80 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

that  they  caught  another  glimpse  of  him.  Then, 
however,  the  gap  in  the  cliff  brought  him  well 
into  view,  and  the  boys  had  no  difficulty  in  fol- 
lowing. He  kept  straight  on  across  the  deserted 
harbor  and  on  to  the  footpath  at  the  other  side 
running  up  the  cliff, — a  short  cut  for  pedestrians 
leading  to  the  highroad  a  little  short  of  Gud- 
geon's farm.  Not  far  up,  however,  the  path 
forked,  a  narrow  track  leading  down  again  to 
the  beach,  which  it  reached  about  two  hundred 
yards  farther  east. 

Jack  had  to  wait  until  De  Fronsac  had  disap- 
peared before  he  followed  him  across  the  open 
space  around  the  harbor,  for  if  he  had  chanced 
to  turn  he  must  have  caught  sight  of  any  one  be- 
hind. Thus,  when  the  boys  reached  the  fork  of 
the  path,  they  were  uncertain  whether  to  con- 
tinue up  the  cliff,  or  to  turn  down  to  the  right. 

"Listen!"  said  Jack. 

Holding  their  breath  they  waited.  Was  that 
a  faint  sound  from  above? 

"Let  us  chance  it,"  said  Jack,  and  up  they 
went,  following  the  steep  winding  path  until  it 

81 


JACK   HARDY 

brought  them  once  more  to  the  highroad.  They 
glanced  up  and  down;  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen,  only  Gudgeon's  farm  about  a  stone's  throw 
to  the  right,  and  the  bare  white  road  winding 
down-hill  past  it  and  up-hill  to  the  left.  They 
were  again  at  fault;  presumably  De  Fronsac,  to 
avoid  the  very  loose  shingle  near  the  village,  had 
chosen  the  cliff  path,  only  to  turn  to  the  right 
and  continue  his  road  by  the  beach. 

"If  that's  it,"  said  Jack,  "we  can  easily  make 
sure.  Remain  here  by  the  wall  so  that  you  can't 
be  seen.  I'll  go  on." 

He  ran  on  tiptoe  along  the  road  past  Gud- 
geon's house  standing  black  and  silent,  crossed 
the  little  bridge  over  the  chine,  and,  vaulting  the 
wall,  hastened  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  He 
should  now  at  least  be  level  with  the  Frenchman 
if  he  was  still  walking  along  the  beach  eastward, 
for  on  the  road  Jack  had  run  much  faster  than 
was  possible  on  the  shingle. 

Here  again,  however,  the  cliff  cast  a  black 
shadow.  He  could  see  nothing;  nor,  listening 
intently,  could  he  detect  any  sound  from  below, 

82 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

save  the  slow  wash  of  the  high  tide.  But  in  a  few 
moments  his  practised  ear  caught  another  sound. 
Surely  that  was  the  faint  thud  of  oars  working  in 
row-locks  out  at  sea.  Yes:  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
eastward  he  saw  a  boat  cross  the  white  path  of 
the  moonbeam  across  the  water  and  creep  shore- 
ward. And  beyond,  straining  his  eyes,  he 
thought  he  saw  in  the  shimmering  moonlight  the 
shape  of  a  larger  vessel,  motionless. 

"Whew!"  he  whistled  softly,  "that's  the 
Frenchman's  little  game!" 

He  was  convinced  that  there  must  be  some 
connection  between  the  approach  of  the  boat  and 
De  Fronsac's  suspicious  movements.  What  was 
it?  He  thought  of  Arthur,  remaining  by  him- 
self in  Gudgeon's  field. 

"Better  fetch  the  youngster,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

He  raced  back  to  the  spot  and  told  Arthur 
what  he  had  seen. 

"You  had  better  come  with  me.  Who  knows 
what  this  will  lead  to?" 

They  returned  together  and  hurried  along  the 

83 


JACK   HARDY 

cliffs,  keeping  well  away  from  the  edge  to  avoid 
being  seen. 

"She's  making  for  Laxted  Cove,"  said  Arthur 
when  he  saw  the  boat. 

"How  far  away?" 

"About  half  a  mile.  We'll  have  to  fetch  round 
it  and  approach  from  the  other  side  if  we're  to 
see  what's  going  on." 

"Come  on,  youngster;  hold  your  wind." 

They  pounded  along  at  a  steady  pace  over  the 
rough  bent.  The  surface  was  very  irregular,  and 
more  than  once  the  boys  tripped  and  almost  fell 
headlong  as  some  sudden  irregularity  of  the 
ground  betrayed  their  steps.  In  spite  of  all  their 
haste,  by  the  time  they  had  reached  a  point  be- 
yond the  cove  whence  they  could  look  down  in 
security,  the  boat  had  already  been  beached,  and 
men  were  landing. 

The  boys  lay  flat  on  their  faces,  peering  over 
the  edge  of  the  cliff  that  fell  here  almost  per- 
pendicular to  the  beach.  The  men  below  were 
speaking  in  low  tones;  Jack  caught  a  few  words 
of  French,  he  thought.  They  were  apparently 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

impatient  to  be  off.  He  could  not  distinguish 
their  faces,  nor  even  their  dress,  for  having  come 
up  the  beach  from  the  water-line  they  were  now 
in  the  shadow  of  the  cliffs. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  low  hail;  immediately 
afterward  the  sound  of  footsteps.  From  the 
darkness  of  the  undercliff  there  stepped  three 
men  carrying  a  heavy  bundle.  They  staggered 
somewhat  noisily  across  the  shingle  toward  the 
waiting  boat.  Behind  them  two  other  figures 
came  out  of  the  blackness  and  stood  just  below 
the  boys,  as  if  watching  the  proceedings. 

The  three  men  met  those  who  had  landed  from 
the  boat.  Jack  saw  the  bundle  transferred  from 
the  one  party  to  the  other,  and  with  a  start  he 
recognized  that  it  was  the  form  of  a  man,  well 
trussed  up.  It  was  carried  to  the  boat  and  stowed 
with  scant  ceremony  in  the  bows.  Then  the  boat 
was  pushed  off,  the  men  wading  until  she  was 
fairly  afloat.  They  sprang  on  board,  gave  a  low 
farewell  to  the  men  on  the  beach,  and  seizing  the 
oars  pulled  rapidly  out  to  sea. 

The  men  who  had  borne  the  prisoner  watched 

85 


JACK   HARDY 

the  receding  boat  until  it  was  lost  to  sight,  then 
trudged  off  toward  the  village.  The  other  two 
had  already  disappeared.  Jack  wished  he  could 
have  seen  who  they  were,  but  the  man  nearest 
him  had  been  all  the  time  in  shadow,  and  the 
others  had  been  too  far  away  to  be  recognized. 

"I  say,  Jack,"  said  Arthur,  "what  shall  you 
do?" 

"That's  just  what  I'm  wondering.  If  I'd  only 
got  a  few  men  here  I'd  go  down  to  the  village 
and  demand  an  explanation  of  this  strange  busi- 
ness, in  the  king's  name.  But  if  I  went  alone  I'd 
make  a  fool  of  myself." 

"I'd  go  with  you." 

"Then  there'd  be  two  fools  instead  of  one. 
They  could  knock  us  on  the  head  and  send  us  to 
join  that  bundle  on  the  boat.  I  wonder  who  he 
is.  Surely  they  haven't  decoyed  De  Fronsac  here 
and  carried  him  off  to  the  Monster!" 

"He  wouldn't  like  that,  would  he?" 

"Well,  we  can't  do  anything  at  present.  We'd 
better  get  back." 

"Shall  you  tell  father?" 

86 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

"Don't  know.  I'll  tell  you  that  to-morrow 
morning." 

They  went  back  over  the  cliffs.  They  had  just 
crossed  the  chine  when  a  big  figure  suddenly 
loomed  up  to  the  left,  appearing  from  the  zigzag 
path  leading  down  to  the  shore.  There  was  no 
time  to  avoid  a  meeting;  indeed,  so  suddenly 
had  the  man  appeared  from  round  a  bend  in  the 
path  that  unless  he  and  the  boys  had  started  back 
simultaneously  there  must  have  been  a  collision. 
The  moonlight  shone  full  in  the  face  of  the  big 
man,  and  Jack  recognized  him  even  as  Arthur 
whispered : 

"I  say!  old  Gudgeon!" 

Gudgeon  recognized  the  boys  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hardy,  sir!"  he  said,  "you  put  me 
in  quite  a  flutter.  And  you,  too,  Master  Basta- 
ble;  well  to  be  sure!  As  if  I  had  not  had  enough 
flutters  for  one  night!  Did  you  hear  a  boat,  sir?" 

"Saw  it,  too." 

"There  now!  I  was  kept  up  late  attending  to 
some  lambs"  ("Pretty  old  mutton!"  thought 

87 


JACK   HARDY 

Jack.),  "and  I  thought  I  heard  people  moving, 
and  I  came  out,  and  I  was  sure  I  saw  a  boat 
putting  out  to  sea.  It  gave  me  quite  a  start. 
Perhaps  it  was  some  of  those  smugglers — a 
rough  lot.  But  gracious  me!  'tis  very  late  for 
two  young  gentlemen  to  be  out;  your  good 
mother  would  be  in  a  terrible  flutter,  Master 
Bastable,  if  she  knew." 

"I  say,  are  you  going  to  tell  her?" 

"I  have  to  consider  my  duty,  Master  Bastable. 
As  to  Mr.  Hardy,  of  course  he's  a  king's  officer, 
and  can  keep  any  hours  the  king  likes  to  let  him. 
But  a  boy  like  you,  Master  Bastable!  Really, 
Mr.  Hardy,  sir,  I'm  surprised  at  you.  But  I 
keep  myself  to  myself,  I  do,  and  don't  meddle 
with  no  man's  business  as  don't  concern  me.  So 
this  time,  Master  Bastable,  I  won't  think  it  my 
duty  to  tell  your  lady  mother  what  I  seed  this 
night." 

"I'm  going  to  tell  her  myself,  and  what — " 

"Avast  there!"  interrupted  Jack,  "you  ought 
to  be  very  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Gudgeon,  you 

88 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

young  donkey,  for  not  rounding  on  you.  Good 
night,  Mr.  Gudgeon." 

And  he  hauled  Arthur  away. 

"You  young  idiot!"  said  Jack,  when  they  were 
out  of  earshot.  "You  were  going  to  say  you 
would  tell  your  mother  all  you  had  seen.  We 
mustn't  on  any  account  let  them  know  what  we 
have  found  out.  That  would  put  them  on  their 
guard  at  once.  Better  say  nothing  at  all  just 
yet." 

"All  right.  But  why?" 

"Because  there's  something  going  on  which  I 
don't  understand.  De  Fronsac  may  be  in  it; 
Gudgeon  certainly  is ;  and  if  they  think  we  know 
too  much  it  will  spoil  things.  Not  a  word  to  any 
one,  mind." 

"I  say,  how  am  I  going  to  get  back  into  your 
room?  I  got  down  the  rain-pipe,  but  I  couldn't 
climb  up  it." 

"Don't  worry  yourself,  we'll  find  a  way." 

On  reaching  the  house  they  saw  that  De  Fron- 
sac's  windows  were  shut.  Jack  quickly  swarmed 

89 


JACK   HARDY 

up  the  pipe  and  entered  his  room.  In  about  a 
minute  down  came  the  end  of  a  knotted  sheet. 
Arthur  caught  it,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was 
standing  beside  Jack. 

The  family  were  seated  at  the  breakfast-table 
next  morning  when  De  Fronsac  came  in. 

"Pardon,  Madame,"  he  said,  "I  am  late.  Last 
night  I  see  a  fine  moon ;  it  drew  me  out  towards 
de  so  beautiful  sea  over  dere" — he  pointed  in  a 
direction  exactly  contrary  to  that  taken  by  the 
figure  followed  by  the  boys — "and  I  compose  a 
little  poem  on  de  Minotaur — who  is,  of  course, 
dat  Monstair  Bonaparte." 

"That's  strange,  Monsieur,"  said  Jack,  at 
whom  Arthur  had  been  staring  very  hard  while 
the  Frenchman  spoke.  "I  could  not  sleep  last 
night,  and  went  out  for  a  stroll,  and  I  could  have 
sworn  I  saw  you  coming  just  the  opposite  way." 

"Ah!  I  see  you  also.  I  see  you  drough  my 
curtains — ven  you  climb  up  de  pipe.  To  marin- 
ers dat  is,  of  course,  as  easy  as  the  staircase;  but 
as  for  me,  I  shudder." 

"Gave  you  the  flutters,  eh,  Monsieur?" 


A   MIDNIGHT   EXCURSION 

"Myself  I  vould  say  de  tr-r-rembling.  De 
poem  I  compose,  Madame,  it  begin — 

'  fls  dere  a  creature  vizout  shame? 
Napoleon — so  is  he  name. 
Is  dere  a  creature  vizout  heart? 
Ah!  yes! — de  Monstair  Bonaparte/ ' 

"Yes,  but  Monsieur,"  persisted  Jack,  "I  saw 
some  one  uncommonly  like  you  going  the  other 
way,  towards  Laxted  Cove." 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Jack,  ve  have  a  proverb,  'In 
the  dark  all  cats  are  gray.'  Dat  you  see  some 
vun,  it  is  certain;  but  me — no,  Monsieur  Jack, 
how  can  it?  I  vas  composing  my  poem — over 
dere." 


CHAPTER  VI 

SIGNALS 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  Jack  received 
from  a  carrier  a  note  summoning  him  to  rejoin 
his  ship  at  once.  His  cousins  were  sorry  to  bid 
him  good-by,  and,  though  he  was  eager  enough 
to  return  to  his  duty,  he  was  so  much  interested 
in  the  strange  things  that  had  happened  since  his 
arrival  at  Bastable  Grange  that  he  would  have 
liked  very  well  to  remain  a  few  days  longer  and 
try  to  unravel  the  mystery  by  which  he  seemed 
to  be  surrounded.  Before  leaving  he  took  Ar- 
thur aside  for  a  moment. 

"Look  here,  youngster,"  he  said,  "keep  your 
eye  on  De  Fronsac.  If  he  tries  to  pump  out  of 
you  what  we  saw  last  night,  tell  him  we  saw  a 
boat  putting  out  to  sea  and  wondered  whether 
the  smugglers  were  at  work.  Don't  say  a  word 
about  the  man  we  saw  put  on  board.  Don't  let 
him  think  we  suspect  him.  And  it  will  be  as  well 

92 


SIGNALS 

to  take  a  note  of  the  days  when  he  reels  off 
poetry." 

"All  right.— I  say!" 

"Well?" 

"His  poetry  is  fearful  rubbish,  isn't  it?" 

"Never  made  any  myself,  but  I  fancy  I  could 
do  as  well  as  he.  Good-by.  Remember  what  I 
said." 

Jack  returned  to  Wynport  in  a  carrier's  cart. 
He  went  down  at  once  to  the  harbor,  and  was 
rowed  to  the  Fury,  which  lay  at  her  moorings, 
just  inside  the  bar.  A  stout  old  mariner  was  lean- 
ing over  the  side,  smoking  a  big  pipe.  One  of 
his  eyes  was  considerably  larger  than  the  other; 
a  big  and  very  bulbous  nose  seemed  to  occupy 
the  greater  part  of  his  face;  and  a  long  black 
curl  hung  in  a  graceful  curve  over  his  right 
brow.  Guessing  instinctively  that  this  could  be 
none  other  than  Ben  Babbage,  Gumley's  friend, 
and  bo'sun  of  the  cutter,  Jack  hailed  him. 

"Fury  ahoy!" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  Morning,  sir,  morning,  leastways 
good  arternoon,  seeing  as  how  we've  just  took 

93 


JACK   HARDY 

in  our  cargo  of  dinner.  Glad  to  see  you,  sir. 
Mr.  Blake  he  said  we  was  to  get  under  way  the 
very  minute  you  came  aboard." 

Jack  swung  himself  up,  flung  a  coin  to  the 
boatman,  and  turned  to  the  old  sailor. 

"Where's  Mr.  Blake?" 

"Below,  sir,  a-laying  in  his  bunk,  twisted  up 
with  rheumatics.  You're  in  command,  sir,  pro 
tern,  as  brother  Sol  used  to  say." 

"Very  well ;  heave  the  anchor,  and  run  up  the 
mainsail.  You're  the  bo'sun,  eh?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir:  name  Babbage;  not  Sol,  sir; 
that's  my  brother,  and  a  much  better  chap  nor 
me,  though,  so  far.  Ben  Babbage  my  name,  sir." 

"Well,  Babbage,  clear  the  harbor.  I'll  go  and 
see  Mr.  Blake  and  get  her  course.  You  can  call 
me  when  you've  fairly  crossed  the  bar." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Jack  went  below  and  found  the  lieutenant 
groaning  in  his  bunk.  He  was  a  weather-beaten 
sea-dog  of  forty-five,  who  had  long  since  given 
up  whatever  dreams  of  promotion  he  might  at 
one  time  have  entertained. 

94 


SIGNALS 

"You're  back,  then,  Mr.  Hardy,"  he  said. 
"You  see  me  a  martyr  to  rheumatism:  my  old 
enemy  serves  me  like  this  every  time  I  go  to  sea. 
Babbage  gave  you  my  message?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  our  orders  are. 
French  privateers  are  careering  up  and  down 
the  Channel,  dodging  our  cruisers  and  swooping 
down  on  our  merchantmen.  We've  got  to  cruise 
at  large,  keeping  one  eye  on  the  French,  and 
t'other  on  the  smugglers.  They're  expected  to 
be  pretty  active  just  now,  when  every  one's  mad 
with  excitement  about  these  flat-bottomed  boats 
that  Boney  is  going  to  invade  us  with.  The  Fury 
has  got  to  act  as  a  sort  of  watch-dog." 

"Not  much  fun  about  that,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"No,  sir,  no  fun,  and  no  glory.  Both  you  and 
I,  I  take  it,  would  sooner  sling  our  hammocks  on 
a  frigate  or  a  line-of-battle  ship.  But  we've  our 
duty  to  do,  sir,  and  we  can't  do  more  than  our 
duty,  wherever  we  are.  Did  you  find  your  rela- 
tives well?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Do  you  know  Luscombe?" 

95 


JACK   HARDY 

"No,  I've  never  done  this  shore-crawling  be- 
fore." 

"A  good  deal  of  smuggling  goes  on  there,  I 
am  told.  'Tis  a  quiet  little  place,  almost  hidden 
away  in  a  recess  between  the  cliffs.  It  doesn't 
seem  to  have  been  troubled  much  by  the  preven- 
tive men." 

"The  last  riding-officer  was  a  slack-twisted 
fellow,  it  appears,  no  good  for  his  job.  The  new 
man — I've  seen  him  once  or  twice  here — is  ener- 
getic enough,  but  not  too  quick-witted,  I  should 
say,  and  a  little  inclined  to  be  bumptious." 

At  this  point  a  sailor  put  his  head  in  at  the 
little  cabin. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  Mr.  Babbage  says  we're 
off  Minton  Point,  and  waits  for  orders." 

"Very  well,  Turley.  Go  on  deck,  Mr.  Hardy, 
and  take  a  run  down  Channel.  Let  me  know 
what  you  think  of  the  Fury's  sailing  powers; 
we've  nothing  but  our  speed  to  trust  to  if  we 
happen  to  fall  in  with  the  enemy  in  force." 

All  feelings  of  disappointment  vanished  from 
Jack's  mind  immediately  as  he  stepped  on  deck. 

96 


SIGNALS 

The  Fury  was  in  all  respects  a  model  cutter. 
Jack  had  admired  the  beauty  of  her  lines  as  she 
lay  in  harbor,  sitting  the  water  like  a  sea-bird, 
with  every  promise  of  speed  in  the  graceful  hull, 
the  long  tapering  mast  and  the  huge  boom  ex- 
tending considerably  beyond  the  stern.  Now 
heeling  slightly  to  a  stiff  sou'-sou'-westerly 
breeze,  with  her  great  spread  of  canvas  she 
seemed  to  Jack  like  a  sea-bird  in  flight.  A  stately 
Indiaman  that  had  left  port  some  time  before 
was  working  to  windward  a  mile  ahead.  In  or- 
der to  test  the  capacity  of  the  Fury  Jack  brought 
her  a  few  points  nearer  the  wind,  and  found  that 
he  steadily  overhauled  the  huge  vessel.  Before 
nightfall  the  Indiaman  was  nearly  hull  down, 
and  Jack  was  satisfied  that  the  Fury  had  the 
heels  of  most  craft  he  was  likely  to  meet  on  the 
coast. 

Two  small  brass  guns,  one  forward  and  one 
aft,  comprised  her  whole  armament.  Jack  could 
not  help  contrasting  this  with  the  forty  huge 
guns  of  the  Ariadne.  The  crew  consisted  of  some 
five  and  twenty  seamen  and  marines.  Most  of 

97 


them  had  seen  much  service,  and  one  and  all 
wished  they  were  with  Nelson  chasing  the 
French  instead  of  being  engaged  in  what  they 
considered  the  humdrum  task  of  watching  the 
coast.  Jack  privately  thought  it  might  turn  out 
to  be  not  so  very  humdrum  after  all.  He  soon 
made  himself  acquainted  with  the  crew,  and  was 
rather  attracted  by  a  merry-eyed  salt  named  Joe 
Turley,  a  handy  man  who  seemed  to  live  to  poke 
fun  at  Babbage  the  bo'sun.  Among  the  men  that 
worthy  was  variously  known  as  Cabbage,  Arti- 
choke, Brussels  sprouts,  Sparrow-grass,  and 
Turnip-tops;  he  was  rarely  called  by  his  own 
name,  except  to  the  officers,  when  he  was  always 
alluded  to  most  respectfully  as  Mr.  Babbage. 

A  fortnight  passed  away,  and  Jack,  as  well  as 
every  member  of  the  crew,  was  growing  very 
tired  of  the  uneventful  life.  Every  day  was 
alike,  save  for  the  weather,  and  that  varied  little. 
The  cutter  cruised  up  and  down  the  Channel 
between  Weymouth  and  Portsmouth,  putting  in 
occasionally  to  communicate  with  the  riding- 
officer  and  to  take  in  provisions,  but  finding 

98 


SIGNALS 

nothing  of  any  importance  to  do.  The  smug- 
glers seemed  to  be  quiet;  the  only  vessels  sighted 
were  British  merchantmen  passing  up  or  down 
Channel  under  convoy,  or  fishing-smacks  out 
from  the  English  ports.  The  men  grumbled  at 
the  lack  of  chances  of  obtaining  prize  money, 
and  Jack  was  impatient  of  the  inactivity  to 
which  he  was  condemned.  It  was  all  very  well 
to  keep  the  Fury  spick  and  span,  her  deck  as 
white  as  the  sails,  her  brass  rails  polished  to  a 
dazzling  brilliance;  but  he  would  have  liked 
work  a  little  less  domestic — work  for  the  two 
brass  guns  that  Joe  Turley  caressed  as  though 
they  were  living  creatures. 

"Won't  you  venture  over  to  the  French  side, 
sir?"  Jack  asked  Lieutenant  Blake  one  day.  "We 
aren't  doing  any  good  hugging  our  own  shore." 

"No,  I  won't.  I  can't  blockade  a  French  port 
with  a  cutter  of  two  guns.  If  we  run  too  close 
to  the  French  shore  we  might  easily  be  snapped 
up,  and  for  nothing  at  all.  Besides,  orders  are 
orders.  I've  got  mine  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff,  and 
I  can't  go  beyond  'em." 

99 


Jack  was  disappointed,  but  clearly  there  was 
nothing  to  be  said. 

One  evening  the  Fury  was  making  toward 
Wynport.  She  had  overhauled  a  suspicious  look- 
ing brig  passing  down  Channel,  but  found  that 
she  was  a  harmless  Portuguese  sailing  in  ballast. 

"I  know  she  was  a  Portuguese,"  said  Joe  Tur- 
ley  to  his  messmates  on  the  forward  deck.  "But 
old  Turnip-tops,  of  course  he  must  take  his 
Bible  oath  she  was  a  Spaniard,  and  so  we've 
wasted  three  or  four  hours,  on  the  very  night, 
too,  when  we're  due  at  the  Goat  and  Compasses." 

It  had  been  arranged  that  half  the  crew 
should  have  a  night  ashore  at  Wynport — the 
first  since  the  Fury  had  spread  her  sails. 

"True,  old  Sparrow-grass  is  a  nuisance, 
though  he's  got  a  good  heart.  Here  he  comes." 

The  bo'sun  came  forward  and  joined  the 
group. 

"Well,  messmates,"  he  said,  "we'll  be  late  at 
the  Goat  and  Compasses,  and  I'm  sorry  for  that, 
but  whenever  I'm  sorry  I  think  of  my  brother 
Sol,  who  always  says,  'Cheer  ho!  my  hearty,'  and 

100 


SIGNALS 

slaps  your  back  in  a  way  that  warms  the  very 
cockles  of  your  heart.  I  remember — but  what's 
that  light?" 

"What  light,  Mr.  Babbage?"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"There,  to  larboard." 

He  pointed  toward  the  shore.  A  strong  light 
was  shining  intermittently,  remaining  steady  for 
a  few  seconds,  then  disappearing,  then  flashing 
out  again. 

" 'Tis  a  signal,  sure  enough,"  cried  Turley; 
"but  what  for?  That's  the  point." 

"No,  it  ain't  the  point,"  said  Babbage.  "The 
point's  a  good  deal  east  of  that  light,  and  it's 
Bantock  Point." 

"Well,  I  meant  point  in  a  manner  of  speak- 
ing. The  light's  at  Luscombe;  any  one  can  see 
that." 

"More  like  at  Totley." 

"I  say  Luscombe,  Mr.  Babbage,"  was  the 
stubborn  rejoinder. 

"Totley,  I  say,  and  what  I  say  I  stick  to,  as 
brother  Sol  says." 

IOI1 


JACK   HARDY 

"Ahoy,  there!"  called  Jack  from  amidships. 
"What  do  you  make  of  that  light,  Babbage?" 

"Some  one  showing  a  signal  from  Totley,  sir, 
two  miles  t'other  side  of  Luscombe." 

"No,  it  can't  be  at  Totley.  That's  round  a 
bend  of  the  shore.  It's  at  or  near  Luscombe  it- 
self. A  smugglers'  signal,  eh?" 

"Like  as,  not,  sir.  They've  been  too  quiet  of 
late:  a  sure  sign  of  something  brewing,  like  a 
calm  after  a  storm,  as  brother  Sol  might  say." 

"I'm  pretty  sure  it's  at  Luscombe.  But  'twill 
be  rather  hard  to  determine  exactly  in  the  dark- 
ness. Run  her  in  a  little  toward  shore,  so  that 
we  can  take  a  look  at  things." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  dim  outlines  of  two 
prominent  cliffs  to  the  northeast  and  west-north- 
west respectively  could  be  seen.  Jack  saw  that  he 
could  determine  the  general  direction  of  the 
light  by  those  two  well-known  landmarks.  Ac- 
cordingly he  ordered  the  cutter  to  be  hove  to; 
he  then  took  its  position  with  reference  to  the 
two  cliffs,  and  the  angle  of  the  light.  When  this 
was  done  he  went  below  and  reported  to  Lieu- 

IC2 


SIGNALS 

tenant  Blake,  who  was  enjoying  a  nap  in  his  tiny 
cabin. 

"You  did  very  well,  Hardy.  We'll  return  to- 
morrow and  test  your  observations.  There's  no 
confounded  lugger  or  anything  of  that  sort  in 
sight,  eh?" 

"Nothing,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  leave  things  to  you.  Run  closer 
in  shore,  and  keep  a  bright  lookout.  If  there's 
nothing  in  sight,  head  her  for  Wynport,  but  keep 
a  good  offing  off  Bantock  Point." 

Carrying  out  these  orders,  Jack  found  that  a 
mile  farther  in  he  lost  sight  of  the  light.  He 
thought  it  worth  while  to  run  out  again  and  see 
if  it  had  disappeared  altogether,  but  on  return- 
ing to  nearly  the  same  spot  at  which  the  cutter 
had  been  hove  to,  he  saw  that  the  light  was  burn- 
ing as  brightly  as  ever.  All  at  once  it  went  out. 
Jack  waited  for  some  time  to  see  if  it  reappeared, 
but  the  shore  remaining  in  perfect  blackness  he 
saw  no  good  in  delaying  further,  and  weathering 
the  Point,  with  its  spine  of  jagged  rocks  run- 
ning out  to  sea,  ran  straight  for  Wynport. 

103 


JACK   HARDY 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  Babbage  de- 
clared he  saw  a  sail  on  the  weather  beam.  Jack 
instantly  put  down  the  helm,  but  after  cruising 
about  for  some  time  and  finding  nothing  he  con- 
cluded that  the  bo'sun  had  been  mistaken. 

"Another  facer  for  old  Onions!"  whispered 
Turley. 

At  Wynport  Mr.  Blake  put  up  at  the  Dolphin, 
leaving  Jack  on  board.  Early  in  the  morning 
Jack  met  Mr.  Goodman,  the  riding-officer,  on 
his  way  to  the  inn.  He  had  been  informed, 
Goodman  said,  that  the  smugglers  had  made  a 
run  in  the  night,  and  that  their  cargo  had  been 
concealed  somewhere  about  the  premises  of 
Gumley,  the  one-legged  mariner  on  the  hill. 
This  news  surprised  Jack.  It  had  never  oc- 
curred to  him  that  Gumley  could  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  smugglers.  But  when  he  thought 
of  Gumley's  seclusion,  his  mysterious  ways,  the 
defenses  of  his  cottage,  and  his  bulldog,  he  be- 
gan to  wonder  whether  dust  had  been  thrown  in 
his  eyes,  and  the  apparently  law-abiding  gar- 
dener was  after  all  engaged  in  the  illicit  trade. 

104 


SIGNALS 

He  told  Lieutenant  Blake  what  he  knew  of 
Gumley. 

"Depend  upon  it,  that's  your  man,"  cried  that 
officer.  "You'd  better  search  his  place,  Mr. 
Goodman." 

"Unluckily,  sir,  most  of  my  men  are  off  rum- 
maging in  another  direction  and  won't  be  back 
till  to-morrow." 

"Well,  I'll  lend  you  some  of  my  crew.  And 
as  you  know  the  place,  Mr.  Hardy,  I'll  send  you 
in  charge." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Jack,  and  he  went  off 
immediately  to  collect  the  men.  Within  half  an 
hour  he  set  out  with  a  dozen  of  them,  well 
armed  with  pikes  and  cutlasses.  They  marched 
through  the  fields  and  over  the  cliffs  to  Lus- 
combe,  avoiding  the  highroad.  Arriving  at 
Gumley's  cottage,  Jack  rapped  smartly  on  the 
gate  and  was  answered  as  before  by  a  furious 
barking  from  the  dog.  Gumley  was  some  time 
in  making  his  appearance,  and  Jack,  becoming 
impatient,  pulled  off  his  coat,  and  hoisted  him- 
self on  to  the  fence.  Seeing  who  it  was,  Comely 

I05 


JACK   HARDY 

ceased  to  bark  and  wagged  his  tail  in  friendly 
recognition.  Jack  could  not  help  feeling  a  little 
mean  as  he  stooped  and  patted  the  dog's  head, 
still  more  when  Gumley  appeared  from  the  di- 
rection of  the  cottage,  with  his  board  in  one  hand 
and  a  fork  in  the  other. 

"Morning,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "I  was 
looking  for  another  visit  from  you." 

"I'm  afraid  you  won't  think  me  very  welcome 
this  time,  Gumley,"  said  Jack  gravely.  "  'Tis  an 
unpleasant  job,  but  I've  got  to  search  your 
place." 

"My  place,  sir?  And  what  do  you  expect  to 
find?" 

"  'Tis  reported  that  the  smugglers  ran  a  cargo 
ashore  last  night,  and  that  you've  got  it,  or  part 
of  it." 

"Me!  And  you  believe  it,  sir?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  My  orders 
are  to  search,  and  I  must  do  it.  A  dozen  men  are 
outside:  you'd  better  open  the  gate  and  let  them 


in." 


"Very  good,  sir.  But  I  must  lock  Comely  up 
1 06 


SIGNALS 

first,  sir,  else  he'll  leave  the  marks  of  his  teeth 
somewhere.  You're  a  friend  of  his ;  I  introduced 
you  proper  myself,  but  I'll  not  introduce  him  to 
any  preventive  men  that  ought  to  know  better 
than  to  come  a-nosing  round  my  little  place. 
Who  said  as  how  'twas  here  the  smugglers 
brought  their  cargo,  sir?" 

"I  don't  know.  Mr.  Goodman  heard  it  from 
some  one." 

"One  of  those  villains  down  in  the  village,  I'll 
be  bound.  Well,  I  might  have  expected  it, 
sooner  nor  this.  I  tell  you  straight  out,  sir,  never 
a  shilling's  worth  of  smuggled  goods  have 
passed  my  gate.  I'm  a  king's  man,  leastwise  was 
till  I  got  my  stump,  and  arter  that  I  wouldn't 
demean  myself  by  going  a-smuggling.  How- 
somever,  orders  is  orders,  and  search  you  must. 
I'll  just  tie  up  the  dog,  sir,  and  then  open  the 
gate,  for  Gumley  bean't  the  man  to  shut  his 
doors  upon  the  king's  orders." 

Gumley's  quiet  manner  made  an  impression 
on  Jack,  and  he  was  half  inclined  to  leave  his 
errand  unfulfilled.  If  the  man  had  protested 

107 


JACK   HARDY 

and  blustered  Jack  would  have  been  at  once  con- 
vinced that  he  was  guilty,  but  his  readiness  to 
submit  to  the  search  was  hardly  that  of  a  guilty 
man.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  Gumley 
might  be  trying  to  throw  dust  in  his  eyes  again. 
At  all  events,  he  could  not  return  to  Mr.  Blake 
and  confess  that  he  had  not  carried  out  orders ; 
so  when  the  dog  was  secured  and  the  men  ad- 
mitted he  directed  them  to  begin  the  search. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  few  minutes  to  ran- 
sack the  little  cottage.  Cupboards  were  opened, 
the  stone  flags  of  the  floor  tested,  the  loft  be- 
tween the  rafters  and  the  roof  explored,  but 
nothing  was  found.  Gumley  watched  the  opera- 
tions in  silence,  puffing  at  a  big  pipe  in  which  he 
was  smoking  cabbage  leaves. 

"We'll  have  to  search  the  garden  now,  sir," 
said  one  of  the  men. 

Gumley  took  his  pipe  from  his  lips. 

"The  garden!"  he  said.  "Well,  mind  my 
artichokes.  They  bean't  ripe,  not  till  the  first 
frost,  and  it  won't  do  'em  no  good  to  disturb 


'em." 


1 08 


SIGNALS 

He  knew  that  in  expeditions  of  this  kind  every 
inch  of  ground  would  probably  be  explored. 
Smugglers  had  been  known  to  have  cunningly 
devised  hiding-places  beneath  the  soil,  under  the 
roots  of  apple  trees,  or  pear  trees,  or  raspberry 
bushes.  He  watched  with  a  grim  smile  as  the 
men  spread  out  over  the  garden,  falling  on  all 
fours  to  smell  out  any  traces  of  brandy  or  to- 
bacco. He  said  nothing  when  they  dug  over  a 
plot  of  ground  from  which  he  had  recently  taken 
the  last  of  his  late  potatoes.  But  when  they  ap- 
proached a  flourishing  bed  of  artichokes  he 
heaved  a  great  sigh,  and  said : 

"There  goes  two-pun-ten  in  Wynport  market, 
and  all  in  the  king's  name." 

Jack  had  felt  more  and  more  uncomfortable  as 
the  search  proceeded.  When  a  square  yard  of 
the  plot  had  been  cleared  of  its  tall  green  stalks 
he  suddenly  shouted : 

"Give  over,  men.  This  is  all  a  blind.  There 
are  no  smuggled  goods  here.  Gumley  was  a 
king's  man  like  yourselves.  I  don't  believe  he 
has  anything  hidden;  we'll  sheer  off  and  report 

109 


JACK   HARDY 

to  Mr.  Blake  that  we  can't  find  anything.  Some 
one  must  have  a  spite  against  you,  Gumley." 

"I  could  have  told  you  that,  sir,  but  I  keeps 
myself  to  myself,  and  'twas  not  for  me  to  stand 
up  against  the  king's  orders.  Messmates  all,  I'm 
sorry  you've  had  your  blood  warmed  for  noth- 
ing. Bless  you,  I  don't  bear  you  no  ill-will ;  or- 
ders is  orders,  and  God  save  the  king!" 

He  took  off  his  glazed  hat  as  he  spoke. 

"Well,  Gumley  I'm  sorry  we  disturbed  you. 
Look  here,  take  those  artichokes  up  to  the 
Grange  when  they're  ripe  and  ask  my  cousin,  the 
squire,  to  give  you  fifty  shillings  for  them.  Say 
I  said  so.  Now,  men,  we'll  get  back.  We  owe 
the  smugglers  one  for  this,  and  we'll  pay  it  back, 
all  in  good  time." 


no 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  BEST-LAID  SCHEMES 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  grumbling  among 
the  men  as  they  trudged  back  to  Wynport.  No 
man  likes  to  be  made  a  fool  of,  and  a  Jack  Tar 
as  little  as  any. 

"This  is  what  comes  of  doing  landlubbers' 
work  instead  of  fighting  the  French  on  sea," 
growled  Turley. 

A  heavy  rainstorm  that  came  on  did  not  im- 
prove their  tempers,  and  when,  just  as  they 
marched  into  Wynport,  they  were  overtaken  by 
Mr.  Goodman,  riding  at  a  smart  pace  from  a 
cross-road,  they  began  to  mutter  uncompliment- 
ary remarks  about  the  zealous  officer. 

"Any  luck,  Mr.  Hardy?"  he  cried,  as  he 
passed. 

"None,"  replied  Jack  shortly. 

"Sorry  for  that.  Perhaps  your  search  was  not 
thorough  enough :  your  men  aren't  used  to  it." 

Ill 


JACK   HARDY 

"Confound  his  impudence!"  growled  Turley, 
as  the  officer  rode  on.  "One  of  us  is  worth  three 
of  his  landsharks,  anyway." 

When  Jack  arrived  at  the  Dolphin  Mr.  Good- 
man was  just  leaving. 

"Oh,  Hardy!"  cried  Lieutenant  Blake,  as  he 
entered,  "Mr.  Goodman  tells  me  you've  found 
nothing." 

"Not  a  ghost  of  a  thing,  sir.  Gumley's  as  hon- 
est as  a  judge,  in  my  opinion.  Some  one  has 
played  a  scurvy  trick  on  him  and  us." 

"Well,  look  at  this." 

He  handed  Jack  a  dirty,  crumpled  piece  of 
paper,  on  which  he  read: 

"Mr.  Goodman,  sir,  a  runn  will  be  made  at 
binsey  cove  tonite. — From  a  frend." 

"Another  trick  for  certain,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"Very  likely.  Goodman  says  'tis  a  sure  sign 
the  run  will  be  made  somewhere  else,  if  made  at 
all,  and  in  the  opposite  direction.  He  wants  the 
cutter  to  cruise  off  Totley  Point  to-night  after 
dark.  His  idea  is  that  if  we  stand  away  in  the 

112 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

afternoon  as  if  for  Luscombe,  we  shall  lead  the 
smugglers  off  the  scent;  then  if  we  return  after 
nightfall  we  shall  take  'em  unawares.  He'll  have 
a  strong  force  in  hiding  at  Totley  Point;  that's 
where  he  thinks  the  run  will  actually  be  made, 
right  under  his  nose.  It  would  be  like  the  vil- 
lains. Only  a  year  ago,  just  after  he  came  into 
this  district,  he  got  a  similar  letter,  and  the 
cargo  was  run  miles  away." 

"Well,  sir,  if  he's  been  caught  that  way  once, 
the  smugglers  will  hardly  expect  him  to  fall  into 
the  trap  a  second  time." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  that.  I  don't  fancy  our 
friend  Goodman  has  much  of  a  headpiece.  If 
he  is  the  simpleton  I  imagine  he  is,  he  will  think 
that  the  smugglers  will  take  your  view  and  ex- 
pect him  to  be  this  time  at  Binsey  Cove.  There- 
fore, he'll  go  to  Totley.  The  question  is,  where 
will  the  run  be  made?" 

"Perhaps  the  light  we  saw  last  night  may  have 
something  to  do  with  it.  Don't  you  think,  sir, 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  if  I  took  a  boat's  crew 
and  watched  the  shore  off  Luscombe,  leaving  you 


JACK   HARDY 

with  the  rest  of  the  men  in  the  Fury  to  assist  Mr. 
Goodman  in  case  of  need?" 

"Not  a  bad  idea,  Hardy.  We'll  drop  a  boat 
some  distance  out  at  sea  at  dusk;  you  can  pull  in 
with  muffled  oars  if  you  come  across  anything 
suspicious." 

"The  first  thing,  sir,  will  be  to  find  out  about 
the  light  we  saw." 

"Right.  Find  Babbage  and  get  the  crew  to- 
gether. We'll  be  off  at  once." 

When  the  Fury  reached  the  position  from 
which  the  light  had  been  observed  it  was  at  once 
seen  that,  unless  Jack  had  been  wrong  in  his 
bearings,  the  signal  had  not  been  made  from  the 
village. 

"It  was  more  in  the  direction  of  Congleton's 
Hollow,  sir,"  said  Jack.  "We  can't  see  the  Hol- 
low itself,  but  there's  the  Folly  to  the  left;  you 
can  just  see  it  over  the  trees :  a  tower  where  an 
old  hermit  lived  alone  with  his  broken  heart. 
That  would  make  an  excellent  signal  station." 

"You  know  it,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir.   But  it  didn't  look  as  if  it  was  ever 
114 


THE   BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

used  now.  The  only  doorway  is  barricaded,  and 
my  young  cousin  told  me  it  had  been  like  that 
ever  since  he  could  remember.  He  said  the  top 
was  supposed  to  be  dangerous,  and  the  place  was 
boarded  up  after  an  accident  that  happened  ever 
so  many  years  ago.  There  was  no  other  way  in; 
the  youngster — an  inquisitive  little  chap — has 
tried  more  than  once,  and  always  failed." 
"Humph!  Is  it  worth  trying  again?" 
"I'd  be  mighty  glad  to  see,  sir.  But  I  couldn't 
do  it  in  daylight.  I  might  be  seen  from  the  vil- 
lage. Yet  I  could  hardly  do  much  good  at  night 
unless  some  one  happened  to  be  there  at  the 


time." 


"Well,  we  can't  risk  discovery.  We  don't  want 
to  scare  the  signalers  away." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  best  to  land  some  distance 
down  the  coast  one  night,  and  get  to  the  Folly 
about  daybreak?  I'd  have  the  place  to  myself 
then." 

"Right.  We'll  bide  our  time.  Meanwhile, 
there's  this  anonymous  letter  to  remember.  I 
gave  out  at  Wynport  that  we're  going  to  run  over 


JACK   HARDY 

to  Weymouth ;  perhaps  that  will  put  our  smug- 
gling friends  at  Luscombe  off  the  scent." 

The  Fury  kept  away  all  day,  returning  to  a 
point  opposite  Luscombe  after  nightfall.  Lieu- 
tenant Blake  told  off  Babbage  and  Turley  and 
eight  more  of  the  men  to  accompany  Jack,  and, 
a  boat  being  lowered  and  provided  with  muffled 
oars,  the  little  party  set  off,  while  the  Fury  set  a 
course  for  Totley  Point,  where  Mr.  Goodman 
had  a  posse  of  preventive  men  on  the  watch. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half's  steady 
rowing  to  the  shore,  and  Jack  was  not  at  all  sure 
where  he  would  strike  the  beach.  Thinking  over 
the  likely  places  along  the  shore,  he  felt  certain 
that  the  run  would  probably  be  attempted  at  a 
spot  not  far  east  of  the  path  up  which  he  had  fol- 
lowed De  Fronsac.  He  wished  the  smugglers  to 
get  there  before  him,  for  if  the  vessel  they  ex- 
pected had  not  yet  arrived,  they  would  be  keep- 
ing a  good  watch  seaward,  and  his  boat  would 
run  a  great  risk  of  being  discovered.  But  he  had 
found  out  that  Turley  was  born  at  Wynport  and 
knew  the  coast  pretty  well,  having  spent  several 

116 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

years  as  a  fisherman  in  the  neighborhood,  so  that 
he  was  likely  to  recognize  any  landmarks  as  soon 
as  they  came  in  view. 

It  was  a  still  night,  and  very  dark.  The  oars 
made  scarcely  any  noise  as  the  men  pulled  stead- 
ily in  toward  the  shore.  At  last  Turley  declared 
that  he  could  just  see  the  copse  that  crowned  a 
chine  leading  down  to  the  beach,  near  the  path 
that  Jack  had  followed. 

"You're  sure,  Turley?"  asked  Jack  in  a  whis- 
per. 

"Sartin  sure,  sir." 

"He've  got  cat's  eyes,  sir,"  murmured  Bab- 
bage. 

"We  need  them  to-night,"  said  Jack,  peering 
anxiously  into  the  darkness.  "Easy  all,  men." 

He  listened  for  sounds  along  the  shore  or  from 
the  sea.  The  breeze  was  very  slight;  it  had  be- 
come less  as  the  boat  neared  the  shore;  and  if  it 
continued  to  die  away  there  would  soon  be 
scarcely  enough  wind  to  carry  a  vessel  in. 

"We're  about  half  a  mile  off,  I  think,  Tur- 
ley?" 

117 


JACK   HARDY 

"Just  so,  sir,"  replied  Turley. 

Jack  was  about  to  give  the  order  to  pull  in  a 
little  closer  when  the  man  just  in  front  of  him, 
who  was  facing  seaward  like  the  other  rowers, 
raised  one  hand  from  his  oar,  and  pointing  to  the 
right  said  in  a  whisper: 

"Sail  on  the  larboard  quarter,  sir." 

Glancing  backward  in  the  direction  indicated, 
Jack  could  just  distinguish  in  the  distance  a  black 
shape  gliding  slowly  up.  He  felt  his  heart  jump- 
ing; the  vessel  had  come  so  suddenly,  so  stealth- 
ily out  of  the  blackness.  Could  his  boat  be  seen 
from  its  deck?  It  was1  so  low  on  the  water  that 
he  hoped  it  might  pass  undetected.  The  men 
were  crouching  over  their  oars ;  there  was  dead 
silence  in  the  boat,  the  crew  scarcely  daring  to 
breathe.  The  dark  shape  came  steadily  on;  it 
passed,  and  faded  again  into  the  darkness.  Al- 
lowing time  for  it  to  get  nearly  in  shore,  Jack  or- 
dered the  men  to  give  way,  and  the  boat  again 
quickly  moved  landward.  He  knew  he  was  risk- 
ing discovery,  but  hoped  that  the  attention  of  the 
watchers  on  shore  would  be  directed  on  the 

118 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

larger  vessel,  and  altogether  overlook  the 
smaller. 

The  coast  hereabouts  was  rocky,  and  the  ap- 
proach to  the  shore  had  to  be  made  with  care. 
Jack  heard  low  voices  ahead;  he  guessed  that 
the  people  on  shore  were  giving  directions  to 
those  on  the  vessel. 

"Channel's  narrow,  sir,"  whispered  Turley, 
"but  there's  a  good  depth  of  water  at  all  states 
of  the  tide;  'tis  nigh  high  tide  now,  and  that 
there  craft'll  be  able  to  run  almost  on  to  the 
beach  and  save  a  good  deal  of  fetching  and 
carrying." 

"How  far  are  we  out  now?" 

"About  a  couple  of  cables'  length,  to  my 
thinking,  sir." 

"Easy  all,  men.  Cutlasses  ready  1" 

Jack  had  already  decided  that  it  would  be  use- 
less to  attempt  to  land  at  any  point  on  either 
side  and  creep  on  the  smugglers,  for  there  would 
certainly  be  watchers  along  the  cliff.  The  attack, 
if  made  at  all,  must  be  made  direct  from  the  sea. 
He  feared  that,  when  the  men  gave  way  for  a 

119 


JACK   HARDY 

final  dash  in,  the  boat  might  strike  a  rock;  but  he 
could  still  see  dimly  the  chase  ahead,  and  the 
tide  being  high,  as  Turley  had  said,  he  resolved 
to  take  his  chance  of  running  aground.  The  boat 
had  followed  quickly  in  the  wake  of  the  larger 
vessel ;  with  a  little  luck  a  straight  dash  might  be 
quite  successful,  for  where  the  smugglers'  craft 
drew  feet,  his  own  scarcely  drew  inches,  and  he 
was  so  much  excited  at  the  prospect  of  his  first 
encounter  with  the  smugglers,  that  he  was  pre- 
pared to  run  no  little  risk. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  sound  of  a  sail  being 
run  down,  of  tackle  creaking,  of  low  voices.  The 
smugglers  worked  quickly,  he  knew;  the  vessel 
would  scarcely  have  anchored  or  otherwise  made 
fast  before  they  began  to  carry  their  cargo  ashore. 
The  moment  was  come.  He  caught  his  breath 
for  an  instant;  then,  gripping  the  tiller  ropes 
firmly,  he  said : 

"Now,  men,  lay  out — send  her  along!" 
The  sounds  of  the  muffled  oars  were  smothered 
in  the  noise  from  the  lugger  and  the  men  tramp- 
ing on  shore.    So  intent  were  the  smugglers  on 

120 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

their  work  that  they  were  unaware  of  what  was 
upon  them.  The  boat  dashed  straight  for  the 
lugger,  which  had  swung  round  so  that  her  bow 
was  first  met.  There  was  a  shock;  then  a  loud 
shout;  and  as  Jack's  men  swarmed  over  on  to  the 
lugger's  deck,  they  came  face  to  face  with  a 
small  knot  of  men  at  the  foremast,  who  had  evi- 
dently hurriedly  collected  to  dispute  the  passage 
with  the  boarders. 

Now  shout  answered  shout.  Barrels  were 
dropped  by  the  carriers  and  fell  with  sharp  thuds 
on  the  deck  or  with  loud  splashes  into  the  water. 
Cutlass  clashed  on  cutlass.  At  the  first  alarm  the 
men  on  shore  came  dashing  back  to  rejoin  their 
comrades,  springing  across  the  long  double 
plank  that  formed  the  gangway,  to  a  bold  ledge 
of  rock  serving  as  a  kind  of  natural  quay. 

"Surrender,  in  the  king's  name!"  shouted  Jack, 
rushing  forward. 

He  was  answered  by  a  vigorous  French  oath. 
Next  moment  the  foremost  of  the  smugglers, 
singling  out  the  young  officer  coming  at  the  head 
of  his  men,  aimed  a  shrewd  blow  at  him  with  a 

121 


JACK   HARDY 

cutlass.  It  was  so  dark  that  Jack  could  barely 
see  the  movement,  but  he  just  managed  to  swerve 
out  of  the  way;  then,  shortening  his  arm  he 
lunged,  and  felt  with  no  little  satisfaction  that 
the  weapon  had  got  home. 

At  this  moment  he  was  almost  carried  off  his 
feet  by  the  vehemence  of  his  own  men,  who  in 
a  compact  body  were  sweeping  all  before  them. 
In  the  rush  and  tumble  Jack  felt  a  heavy  blow 
on  his  head  and  staggered,  saving  his  fall  by 
clutching  at  a  halyard  and  leaning  half-stunned 
against  the  mast. 

To  the  din  of  shouting  and  blows  was  now 
added  the  shrill  screech  of  the  bo'sun's  whistle. 
Having  cleared  the  deck  aft  of  the  mainmast, 
Babbage  and  his  men  were  making  a  dash  for 
the  gangway,  upon  which  the  smugglers  were 
crowding  back  toward  the  lugger.  But  Bab- 
bage's  zeal  had  outrun  his  discretion.  Before  he 
knew  it  his  party  was  beset  on  all  sides.  French 
and  English  cries  were  mingled  in  one  furious 
babel.  No  firearms  were  used ;  the  sound  of  shots 
would  carry  far  in  the  still  night  air,  and  might 

122 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

bring  support  to  the  king's  men  from  a  distance. 
But  cutlasses  and  hangers  were  plied  with  vigor; 
the  crew  of  the  lugger,  reinforced  by  the  men 
from  shore,  outnumbered  Jack's  party  by  four  to 
one,  and  these  had  much  ado  to  defend  them- 
selves in  their  turn  from  the  sturdy  assaults  of 
their  opponents. 

With  an  effort  Jack  pulled  himself  together 
and  pressed  forward  to  lend  a  hand.  His  men 
were  being  remorselessly  driven  back.  Dog- 
gedly they  fought,  yielding  only  inch  by  inch; 
but  it  was  clear  that  they  were  outmatched,  arid 
at  length,  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers,  they  were 
forced  over  the  bulwarks  into  the  sea.  Turley, 
who  had  all  his  wits  about  him,  contrived  to  cut 
the  painter  holding  the  boat  to  the  lugger's  side; 
and,  hardly  aware  how  he  came  there,  Jack 
found  himself  hanging  to  the  side  of  the  boat, 
unable  to  do  more  than  cling  on  for  dear  life. 
Two  or  three  men  managed  to  scramble  into  the 
boat;  they  rowed  it  ashore.  When  it  beached, 
Jack  and  the  men  ran  up  across  the  shingle  to- 
ward the  cliffs.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were 

123 


joined  by  others  of  their  party,  all  dripping  wet, 
and  furious  with  rage  at  their  defeat. 

"  Tis  all  through  old  Turnip-tops,"  growled 
Turley.  "The  idea  of  his  losing  his  head  that 
way!" 

"Anybody  seen  him?"  asked  Jack,  whose  teeth 
were  chattering;  he  had  not  yet  recovered  from 
the  blow  on  his  head. 

"Never  a  man,  sir.  But  there's  the  lugger 
making  sail.  We've  lost  the  cargo  and  got  noth- 
ing for  our  pains  but  broken  heads  and  such 
like." 

Jack  saw  the  dim  shape  of  the  lugger  disap- 
pearing seaward.  In  five  minutes  every  trace  of 
the  smugglers  had  vanished,  except  a  broken  keg 
or  two  on  the  shingle,  from  which  gusts  of  the 
odor  of  spirits  reached  the  men  gathered  in  a  knot 
above.  By  and  by  Babbage  turned  up,  declaring 
that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Turley  the  attack  would 
have  been  a  great  success.  Before  long  the  party 
was  complete,  none  having  been  killed,  though 
several  had  had  a  narrow  escape  from  drowning. 
They  had  been  saved  by  the  planks  of  the  gang- 

124 


THE    BEST-LAID    SCHEMES 

way,  which  the  smugglers,  in  their  haste  to  es- 
cape, had  allowed  to  fall  into  the  water. 

Jack  wondered  why  the  smugglers  had  fled 
when  it  would  have  been  an  easy  matter  for  them 
to  overwhelm  the  king's  men. 

"Why,  they  were  afeard,  sir,"  said  Babbage. 
"The  noise  was  enough  to  bring  all  Dorset  upon 
'em,  and  how  did  they  know  but  that  the  riding- 
officer  was  nigh,  ready  to  come  down  on  'em? 
And  so  he  ought  to  ha'  bin." 

"Well,  they've  let  us  off  easily,"  said  Jack. 
"We'd  better  get  our  boat  afloat  and  hunt  for  the 
Fury." 

"Ay,  sir,  and  won't  Mr.  Blake  be  in  a  fury 
when  he  hears  the  tale!  All  we've  got  is  cuts, 
bruises,  and  a  ducking!" 


125 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CONGLETON'S  FOLLY 

It  was  several  hours  before  the  boat  fell  in 
with  the  Fury.  Jack  and  the  men  were  heartily 
glad  when  they  saw  the  cutter's  mast-head  light. 
They  scrambled  on  board,  and  while  the  men 
had  to  stand  a  good  deal  of  rough  chaff  from 
their  messmates,  Jack's  account  of  his  failure 
was  received  by  Lieutenant  Blake  with  a  quiz- 
zical smile. 

"Ah,  my  boy,  we  have  to  take  the  rough  with 
the  smooth,"  was  all  that  officer  said.  "I  suppose 
you  don't  feel  in  very  good  trim  for  that  little 
expedition  you  proposed?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  I'm  ready  for  anything.  I  must 
change  my  things  and  have  the  best  supper  the 
cook  can  give  me;  then  you  can  put  me  on  shore 
when  you  please.  I've  got  a  bone  to  pick  with 
those  rascals." 

126 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

Consequently,  about  half  an  hour  before 
dawn,  Jack  was  landed  at  a  spot  about  two  miles 
east  of  Congleton's  Folly.  Lieutenant  Blake  ar- 
ranged that  the  boat  should  be  in  waiting  for 
him  three  or  four  hours  later  some  two  miles 
farther  east,  at  a  little  cove  which  was  fairly  well 
sheltered  from  observation. 

"Keep  your  weather  eye  open,"  were  the  lieu- 
tenant's parting  words. 

Jack  climbed  the  cliff  and  arrived  at  the  Hol- 
low just  as  dawn  was  breaking.  It  was  a  misty 
morning;  the  shrubs  and  grass  were  thickly  be- 
sprinkled with  frost;  and  he  was  glad  he  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  wear  a  greatcoat  of 
frieze,  which  kept  him  warm  in  spite  of  the  nip- 
ping air. 

He  came  to  the  Folly,  and  took  a  more  careful 
look  at  it  than  he  had  done  when  he  visited  the 
spot  with  Arthur.  It  was  a  brick  tower,  about 
sixty  feet  high,  built  somewhat  like  a  lighthouse, 
but  four-sided,  not  rounded.  The  base  was  about 
twenty  feet  square ;  the  tower  tapered  to  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  top,  where  it  broadened  out  so 

127 


JACK   HARDY 

that  it  looked  not  unlike  a  mushroom  on  a  par- 
ticularly long  stalk. 

On  the  side  facing  the  sea  was  the  doorway 
giving  access,  as  Arthur  had  told  him,  to  a  spiral 
staircase  leading  to  the  single  chamber  above. 
This  overhanging  part  was  supported  by  stout 
oaken  beams  resting  on  the  brickwork  of  the  cen- 
tral tower.  On  the  inland  side,  in  the  floor  of  this 
room,  there  was  a  trap-door  opening  inward;  it 
was  through  this  that  the  late  Congleton  had 
been  accustomed  to  hoist  his  provisions.  The 
summit  of  the  room  was  crowned  by  a  parapet, 
crenelated  like  the  walls  of  a  fort. 

The  door,  as  Jack  had  already  seen,  was 
strongly  barricaded.  On  the  inner  face  of  the 
tower,  less  exposed  than  the  others  to  the  sea 
winds,  ivy  had  grown  more  than  half-way  up, 
and  from  this  a  number  of  sparrows  flew  rust- 
ling out  when  Jack  appeared. 

He  walked  round  and  round  examining  the 
tower  from  every  point  of  view.  What  a  strange 
man  Congleton  must  have  been  to  choose  this 
lonely  spot  in  which  to  pass  so  many  years  of  a 

128 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

solitary  existence!  Jack  closely  inspected  the 
doorway.  The  wood  was  worm-eaten,  the  heads 
of  the  iron  nails  thick  with  rust,  and  the  barri- 
cading had  been  so  thoroughly  done  that  it 
would  take  a  long  time  to  free  the  entrance.  It 
was  quite  clear  that  no  one  had  gone  either  in  or 
out  for  many  years.  Yet,  if  the  tower  had  indeed 
been  used  for  signaling,  as  he  suspected,  there 
must  be  a  way  in.  Where  was  it? 

He  might  have  thought  he  was  mistaken  but 
for  the  marks  of  many  feet  around  the  base  of 
the  turret.  The  grass  had  recently  been  tram- 
pled down,  especially  on  the  inland  side.  Could 
there  be  another  entrance,  concealed  by  the  ivy? 
'He  pulled  the  strong  tendrils  aside,  and  more 
birds  came  twittering  out;  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  a  second  door.  Somewhat  perplexed,  Jack 
raised  his  eyes  and  scanned  the  brickwork  above, 
which  the  ivy  had  not  yet  reached.  There  was 
the  wooden  trap-door,  let  in  the  floor  of  the  tur- 
ret chamber,  and  a  foot  or  two  of  rusty  chain 
hanging  down. 

"That  must  have  been  part  of  old  Congleton's 
129 


JACK   HARDY 

machinery  for  hoisting  his  stores,"  thought  Jack. 
"I  wonder  if  the  trap-door  is  fastened." 

It  was  quite  clear  that  it  opened  inward,  for 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  bolt  outside.  When  the 
room  was  last  used  a  bolt  inside  might  have 
been  slipped.  If  not,  the  trap-door  could  be 
opened  from  below.  But  how  could  it  be 
reached?  Only  by  a  ladder,  apparently.  Was 
there  a  ladder  hidden  somewhere  among  the 
trees?  He  saw  no  other  means  of  gaining  the 
summit,  for  while  the  ivy  was  strong  enough  to 
bear  his  weight  for  a  good  many  feet  up,  the 
brickwork  above  was  smooth,  in  spite  of  the 
weathering  it  had  undergone,  and  offered  no 
grip  for  hands  or  feet. 

"I  must  look  for  that  ladder,"  he  thought. 
But  after  spending  at  least  half  an  hour  in 
searching  the  surrounding  thicket  he  almost 
gave  up  the  problem  in  despair.  There  was  no 
sign  of  a  ladder,  and  he  had  searched  so  care- 
fully that  one  of  the  requisite  length  could  not 
have  escaped  his  eyes,  however  well  hidden. 
What  could  he  do?  He  did  not  like  the  idea  of 

130 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

being  beaten;  especially  as  he  had  already  failed 
once  in  his  contest  with  the  smugglers.  Just  then 
there  seemed  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  back  to  the 
boat,  and  perhaps  bring  a  number  of  handy  men 
from  the  cutter  to  break  open  the  doorway.  But 
before  doing  that  he  would  have  one  more  look. 

He  returned  to  the  tower.  The  mist  was  clear- 
ing somewhat.  Once  more  he  scanned  each  face 
of  the  tower  in  turn.  And  now  he  noticed,  on  the 
inland  side,  what  had  escaped  him  before.  On 
the  brickwork  between  the  ivy  and  the  chamber 
there  were  a  number  of  small  apertures  dotted 
about,  forming  a  kind  of  pattern — a  spiral.  The 
holes  could  not  have  come  by  accident,  for  they 
appeared  to  be  at  equal  distances  apart.  He 
counted  ten  on  the  bare  portion  of  the  brick- 
work, and,  looking  intently,  believed  he  caught 
sight  of  one  more  where  the  screen  of  ivy 
thinned  off. 

His  curiosity  was  now  thoroughly  awakened. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  these  holes?  Were 
there  more,  concealed  beneath  the  ivy?  He 
pulled  the  strands  of  the  plant  aside,  and  with 


JACK    HARDY 

eye  and  hand  examined  the  wall.  There  were  no 
more  holes,  but  what  was  this?  He  grasped  an 
iron  staple  firmly  imbedded  in  the  brickwork; 
and  three  feet  above,  surely  that  was  another! 

"Oho,  my  hearties!"  he  thought;  "have  I  got 
you  at  last?" 

Setting  his  foot  on  the  lower  staple  he  hoisted 
himself  up,  pulled  aside  the  ivy  above  his  head, 
and  found,  as  by  this  time  he  expected,  still  an- 
other staple,  Without  more  ado  he  began  to 
climb,  nimbly,  eagerly,  until  he  had  to  stop,  for 
he  had  come  almost  to  the  top  of  the  ivy,  and 
there  were  no  more  staples!  What  was  to  be 
done  now? 

True,  there  were  no  more  staples,  but  three 
feet  above  the  last  was  the  lowest  of  the  holes 
that  had  attracted  his  attention.  He  was  able  to 
examine  it.  A  circular  hole,  seemingly  drilled 
with  some  care;  he  put  his  finger  in,  but  could 
not  touch  the  end  of  it.  And  it  appeared  to  be 
bored  at  a  downward  angle  with  the  face  of  the 
wall.  He  felt  that  he  must  find  out  how  long  it 
was,  though  for  the  moment  he  did  not  see  what 

132 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

good  the  information  would  be  to  him.  De- 
scending quickly,  he  found  a  long  twig,  and 
climbing  up  again,  he  inserted  it  into  the  hole. 
About  a  foot  of  the  twig  went  into  the  wall. 

"The  hole  is  made  to  receive  a  movable  step, 
or  I'm  a  Dutchman,"  he  said  to  himself.  "It's 
long  enough,  and  it's  bored  downward  to  pre- 
vent the  step  from  slipping  out.  A  mighty 
clever  notion!  The  holes  must  have  cost  a  deal 
of  work,  for  the  fellow  who  bored  them  must 
have  been  pretty  awkwardly  placed.  I  wonder 
if  they  were  made  by  old  Congleton,  or  after  his 
time.  Now  what  I  want  to  know  is,  where  are 
those  steps?" 

Once  more  he  descended.  The  steps,  wherever 
they  were,  were  probably  made  of  iron,  and 
there  must  be  about  a  dozen  of  them.  Where 
were  they?  Were  they  carried  backwards  and 
forwards  between  the  tower  and  the  house  of  the 
person  who  used  them?  That  seemed  hardly 
likely.  It  was  much  more  probable  that  they 
were  hidden  somewhere  near  at  hand. 

Jack  hunted  about  the  neighboring  thickets. 

133 


JACK   HARDY 

He  might  easily  Have  overlooked  small  objects 
when  searching  for  the  ladder.  But  after  what 
seemed  a  long  time  he  still  found  no  trace  of 
them.  Determined  not  to  give  up  his  quest,  he 
was  wondering  how  best  he  could  make  steps 
for  himself  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  sum- 
mer-house, about  two  hundred  yards  away, 
where  he  had  found  the  wounded  lace-peddler. 

"That's  the  place  to  rummage!"  he  thought. 

He  hastened  to  the  summer-house.  There 
were  two  rooms.  Part  of  the  roof  had  fallen  in 
over  one  of  them,  and,  encouraged  by  the  marks 
of  muddy  boots  about  the  doorway,  Jack  decided 
to  search  there  first.  The  room  was  bare;  he 
turned  over  the  debris  on  the  floor;  nothing  re- 
warded his  efforts.  But  there  was  the  chimney, 
a  wide  square  recess  in  the  wall;  he  would  try 
that. 

He  almost  shouted  for  joy  when,  far  back  in 
the  opening,  he  came  upon  the  object  of  his 
quest — a  pile  of  rusty  iron  implements  that 
seemed  exactly  suited  for  the  purpose.  They 
were  stout  rods  about  a  foot  long,  with  a  loop  at 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

the  end  that  might  serve  either  as  a  hand-grip 
or  a  step.  And  the  loop  was  at  just  such  an  angle 
with  the  rod  as  would  correspond  with  the  aper- 
tures in  the  walls. 

There  were  a  dozen  in  all.  Gathering  them, 
no  light  weight,  into  his  arms,  he  returned  to 
the  tower,  and  with  two  of  the  rods  climbed  up 
by  the  staples  and  tried  one  in  the  first  hole.  It 
fitted  exactly.  He  fixed  the  second,  then  de- 
scended for  the  others.  Being  a  sailor  he  knew 
how  to  avoid  unnecessary  expenditure  of  time; 
he  slung  the  rest  of  the  fittings  over  his  shoulder 
with  his  handkerchief,  and  carried  them  up 
with  him  once  for  all. 

By  their  aid  he  mounted  to  the  top  of  the 
tower,  and  found  himself  just  below  the  trap- 
door. But  it  was  not  quite  within  reach.  There 
was  the  hanging  chain,  however,  coming 
through  a  hole  in  the  floor;  would  that  stand  a 
tug?  He  made  the  attempt,  intending  to  hoist 
himself  up  with  one  hand,  and  push  with  the 
other  against  the  trap-door.  But  he  found  that 
when  he  exerted  a  little  force  the  chain  moved; 

135 


JACK   HARDY 

it  seemed  hardly  safe  to  trust  to  it.  He  was  about 
to  let  it  go  when  he  noticed  that  the  trap-door 
seemed  to  have  risen  slightly.  Again  he  pulled 
at  the  chain,  using  more  force.  It  gave  to  his  tug, 
and  as  it  descended  he  saw  the  trap-door  open 
slowly  upward.  The  chain  at  length  stuck ;  the 
door  was  wide  open,  and  a  rough  rope-ladder 
was  hanging  some  ten  feet  below  the  hole. 

Jack  found  that  if  he  eased  the  pressure  on  the 
chain  the  trap-door  tended  to  fall  back.  It  was 
a  simple  matter  to  prevent  this,  for,  just  at  his 
hand,  there  was  a  staple  to  which  the  chain  could 
be  hooked;  it  was  evidently  intended  for  that 
purpose.  To  swing  himself  on  to  the  ladder  was 
the  simplest  of  feats,  and  in  half  a  minute  he 
had  climbed  through  the  open  trap  and  stood  in 
the  turret. 

"A  fine  old  musty  smell,  that's  what  first 
struck  me,"  he  said  afterward.  "The  dust  of 
ages;  cobwebs  galore.  Only  one  window,  look- 
ing seaward,  and  that  shut  fast.  'Twas  stifling 
to  a  fellow  used  to  the  fresh  air.  There  was  a 
ramshackle  old  bedstead  in  one  corner;  a  four- 

136 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

poster,  with  a  canopy  and  crimson  hangings;  at 
least,  they  had  been  crimson;  the  dust  was  so 
thick  on  'em  that  I  couldn't  see  what  the  color 
was  till  I'd  rubbed  a  bit  of  it  off.  That  was 
where  the  old  eccentric  breathed  his  last,  I  sup- 
pose ;  and  no  one  thought  it  worth  carting  away. 
In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  deal  table  and 
a  chair  with  a  broken  back;  not  another  stick  of 
furniture. 

"But  in  the  corner  near  the  window  I  saw 
something  that  told  a  tale — a  pile  of  kegs,  almost 
reaching  to  the  low  roof.  'Empty  or  full?' 
thought  I.  I  lifted  one ;  it  was  full.  I  knew  they 
weren't  old  Congleton's  property,  or  they'd 
have  disappeared  with  the  rest  of  his  furniture. 
How  did  I  know  he  had  any?  Why,  because  I 
noticed  nails  on  the  wall,  where  pictures  had 
hung,  and  a  clean  patch  on  tfne  of  the  walls — 
cleaner  than  the  rest,  that  is — where  a  bureau  or 
something  of  the  sort  had  stood.  Besides,  no  man 
who'd  have  a  mahogany  bedstead  and  hangings 
that  once  were  splendid  would  have  been  likely 
to  be  satisfied  with  a  deal  table  and  a  common 

137 


JACK   HARDY 

rickety  chair.  They  were  the  kind  of  things 
you'd  expect  in  a  plowman's  or  a  fisherman's 
kitchen. 

"At  any  rate,  I  saw  that  somebody  had  used 
the  room  since  Congleton  departed  this  life,  for 
there  were  some  crumbs  on  the  table,  and  a 
chipped  tumbler  that  smelt  uncommonly  like 
the  kegs.  Ghosts  don't  eat  bread  and  cheese  and 
drink  spirits!  And  there  was  a  coil  of  rope  un- 
der the  table,  and  by  the  window  a  cheap  sort  of 
curtain  that  just  fitted.  I  held  it  up  to  see ;  right 
in  the  middle  of  it  was  a  round  hole.  And  when 
I  came  to  look  at  the  bed  I  saw  that  the  mattress 
had  a  big  dent  in  it,  and  no  dust  on  it.  Somebody 
had  had  a  nap  there  since  old  Congleton  died. 

"Of  course  I  saw  all  this  in  a  very  few  sec- 
onds. Then  I  went  on  the  prowl.  I  pulled  out 
the  bedstead;  by  George!  didn't  it  creak!  I 
thought  the  old  thing  would  fall  to  pieces.  Be- 
hind it  was  a  cupboard,  and  in  the  cupboard  a 
large  bull's-eye  lantern,  and  a  long  cylinder  of 
cardboard  about  eighteen  inches  long.  'What's 
that  for?'  I  thought.  It  didn't  strike  me  at  the 

138 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

moment,  but  I  took  the  things  out  and  put  them 
on  the  table.  The  lamp  leaked  a  little;  I  found 
I'd  got  some  spots  of  oil  on  my  breeches. 

"When  I  put  them  on  the  table  I  noticed 
something  I'd  missed  before.  In  the  middle  was 
a  sort  of  pattern  in  red  chalk — a  circle  with  a  tail 
to  it;  and  at  the  edge  of  the  table  two  parallel 
strokes.  They'd  been  done  some  time,  for  the 
marks  in  the  middle  were  almost  hidden  by  oil 
stains.  Those  stains  puzzled  me  for  a  bit.  I 
could  have  understood  wine  stains  better.  But 
at  last  I  tumbled  to  it.  That  was  the  place  where 
the  lamp  was  put  for  the  signaling.  I  set  it  down 
on  the  circular  mark;  it  just  fitted.  But  I  could 
not  make  out  at  first  what  the  two  straight  strokes 
at  the  edge  were  for.  Then  I  caugTit  sight  of  the 
roll  of  cardboard  and  another  idea  struck  me. 
I  lifted  it  and  stuck  it  on  the  bull's-eye ;  it  fitted 
like  a  glove;  and  when  I  turned  the  lantern  so 
that  the  handle  was  over  the  tail  of  the  circle  I 
found  that  the  cylinder  just  reached  to  the  two 
marks. 

"But  that  only  puzzled  me  more  than  ever, 


JACK   HARDY 

for  the  lantern  and  cylinder  were  now  pointing 
straight  at  old  Congleton's  bed.  Would  you  be- 
lieve it? — I  didn't  at  first  think  of  turning  the 
table  round!  Of  course  it  wasn't  a  fixture,  and 
when  I  did  think  of  it  I  saw  through  the  whole 
scheme.  Turned  round,  the  lantern  pointed 
through  the  window.  The  cylinder  was  a  clever 
notion.  It  would  prevent  the  light  from  the 
bull's-eye  spreading,  so  that  while  it  would  be 
seen  a  good  distance  out  at  sea,  it  wouldn't  at- 
tract notice  in  the  neighborhood,  except  that  a 
faint  glow  might  be  seen  from  below.  But  the 
Folly  wasn't  in  sight  from  the  village,  and 
there'd  be  precious  few  of  the  ordinary  country 
folk  who'd  care  to  be  near  the  spot  after  dark. 
They'd  be  in  mortal  fear  of  seeing  old  Congle- 
ton's ghost. 

"I  was  still  a  little  puzzled.  What  need  was 
there  to  mark  the  place  of  the  lantern  so  ex- 
actly. Anywhere  near  the  window  the  light 
would  be  seen  clearly  enough  out  at  sea.  But 
now  that  I  had  moved  the  table  I  noticed  four 
red  marks  on  the  floor.  'Here's  another  discov- 

140 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

ery,'  I  thought;  'there's  a  mark  for  each  leg  of 
the  table.'  I  slewed  it  around  again,  so  that  the 
legs  stood  on  the  marks.  Then  it  flashed  on  me; 
if  the  table  was  always  in  the  same  place,  and  the 
lantern  always  exactly  on  the  marks,  the  light 
would  always  hit  the  same  point  out  at  sea.  (A 
very  pretty  scheme!'  says  I  to  myself.  'Good 
master  smugglers  have  all  their  wits  about  'em.' 

"It  was  clear  as  daylight  now  that  the  Folly 
was  a  signal-station,  and  sometimes,  as  the  kegs 
showed,  a  storehouse  as  well.  Of  course  they 
used  old  Congleton's  machinery  for  hoisting  the 
kegs.  That  coil  of  rope,  now!  I  pulled  it  over, 
and  there,  just  underneath,  was  a  pulley — an 
iron  bar  fitted  with  a  small  grooved  wheel,  and 
resting  at  each  end  on  a  wooden  block;  little 
grooves  had  been  chiseled  out  to  keep  the  bar 
steady.  And  when  I  came  to  look  at  'em  I  saw, 
as  I  might  have  expected,  that  they'd  been  oiled 
not  long  before. 

"By  this  time  I'd  found  out  all  I  wished  to 
know.  The  only  thing  left  to  be  discovered  was, 
who  used  the  Folly?  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get 

141 


JACK   HARDY 

Lieutenant  Blake  to  let  me  bring  some  men  to 
the  place  one  night  when  we  saw  the  light,  and 
catch  the  men  in  the  act.  But  before  I  went 
away  I  thought  I'd  go  down  the  staircase  and 
see  if  there  was  anything  there.  I  couldn't  find 
a  door,  yet  the  staircase  must  lead  direct  into  the 
room;  there  was  no  other.  I  had  another  look 
at  the  cupboard,  and  found  after  some  trouble 
that  half  the  back  of  it  was  movable — it  was  a 
sliding  panel.  I  pulled  it  aside;  it  moved  quite 
easily;  and  I  stepped  through — carefully,  I  can 
tell  you,  for  it  was  pitch  dark. 

"I  got  on  to  the  staircase,  and  went  down 
gingerly,  a  step  at  a  time.  It  was  wooden,  and 
the  stairs  were  pretty  rotten;  they  creaked  as  I 
moved,  and  I  clung  on  to  a  rope  that  made  a  sort 
of  hand-rail,  afraid  of  pitching  head  first  to  the 
bottom.  It  smelled  very  close,  and  I  took  some 
time  to  go  down,  for  the  stairs  were  narrow,  and 
as  it  was  a  winding  staircase  they  scarcely  gave 
foothold  except  at  the  wall  end.  At  last  I  got  to 
the  bottom,  and  then  I  saw  a  glint  or  two  of  light 
coming  through  chinks  in  the  doorway. 

142 


CONGLETON'S    FOLLY 

"I  had  only  just  got  there  when  I  fancied  I 
heard  a  rustling  outside.  'Mercy  me!'  I  thought; 
'this  isn't  signaling  time;  but  I  hope  no  one  is 
coming  for  the  kegs.'  I  scrambled  up  the  stair- 
case a  good  deal  quicker  than  I  picked  my  way 
down,  and  crawled  through  the  hole  in  the  cup- 
board. Then  I  nearly  jumped  out  of  my  skin,  for 
I  saw  a  man  sitting  on  the  rickety  chair.  It  was 
Monsieur  de  Fronsac." 


CHAPTER  IX 

CLOSE  QUARTERS 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Jack!"  said  De  Fronsac,  with 
his  agreeable  smile;  "I  see  you!"  Jack  laughed. 
It  was  only  the  Frenchman  after  all !  His  fear 
that  it  might  be  a  smuggler  was  groundless. 

"Yes;  I'm  too  black  for  a  ghost;  'tis  a  con- 
foundedly dirty  place,  Monsieur.  But  how  do 
you  come  here?" 

"It  is  ver'  simple,  ver'  simple  indeed.  I  came 
out  in  de  early  morning,  to  promenade  myself, 
and  to  compose  a  new  sonnet  on  de  Monstair. 
Behold!  Vat  do  I  see?  De  trap-door  of  dis 
tower  is  open;  and,  vat  is  dis? — assuredly  I  see 
steps  mounting  up  to  de  very  sommit.  I  am  ro- 
mantic, as  you  know,  Monsieur;  I  love  de 
bizarre.  Can  I  venture  myself?  Dat  old  Con- 
gleton — vat  a  strange,  an  eccentric!  I  vould  like 
to  see  de  place  vere  he  lived  so  solitaire.  I 
climb;  I  have  a  little  fear;  but  I  make  de  ascen- 

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sion;  I  arrive.  Ho!  Dis,  den,  is  de  place.  Vat  a 
magnificent  spot  for  to  compose  poesy!  How 
beautiful  de  spectacle  over  de  blue,  blue  sea! 
Magnificent!  Glorious!  Old  Congleton  had  a 
genius,  hein?  But  you,  Monsieur  Jack,  how 
came  you  here?" 

"The  same  way  as  you,  Monsieur." 

"Ah!  remarkable!  You  do  not  compose  poesy 
in  de  early  morning!  You,  I  t'ink — and  your 
good  cousin  t'inks — you  sail  on  de  blue,  blue  sea. 
De  steps,  too ;  surely  dey  are  new.  Never  have  I 
observed  dem  before.  It  is  remarkable!  Old 
Congleton — did  he  ascend  de  tower  in  dat  man- 
ner? Or  perhaps  de  steps  are  your  vork;  you 
invent  dem,  Monsieur  Jack?" 

"No,"  said  Jack  shortly.  He  had  never  liked 
De  Fronsac's  smile. 

"Den  of  whom?  Who  invent  dem?  Dey  de- 
mand much  care  and  skill;  yes,  and  industry. 
And  for  vat  good  to  spend  so  much  time?  It 
vould  be  easier  to  valk  up  de  stairs — if  de  door 
is  open,  of  course  dat  is  understood.  But  truly 
it  is  more  romantic — it  has  more  of  de  fun,  as 

H5 


JACK   HARDY 

you  English  say,  to  mount  on  de  outside,  on  little 
steps,  from  hand  to  foot,  vun  may  say.  Yes,  and 
if  in  my  youth  I  had  not  lived  much  among  de 
sailors  of  my  little  village,  assuredly  I  should 
not  have  had  de  courage  to  make  an  attempt  so 
perilous.  Ve  sailors,  indeed,  have  de  firm  leg, 
de  fixed  eye." 

De  Fronsac's  eye  was  certainly  fixed — on 
Jack,  who  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  the 
Frenchman  was  not  only  trying  to  find  out  from 
his  manner  what  he  had  discovered,  but  was 
talking  to  gain  time.  He  was  resolving  to  cut 
the  interview  short,  when  De  Fronsac,  turning 
round  suddenly,  appeared  to  catch  sight  for  the 
first  time  of  the  kegs. 

"Ah I  Voila!  Ve  have  it!  Dose  barrels 
Monsieur  Jack — you  see  dem?  Dey  are  put  dere 
vizout  doubt  by  dese  smogglairs.  Ah!  de  ras- 
cals! Certainly  ve  must  tell  your  good  cousin, 
Monsieur  Bastable.  He  vill  know  de  means  to 
take.  He  vill  come,  and  take  an  inventaire.  Cer- 
tainly dat  is  vat  ve  must  do.  You  come  viz  me ; 
ve  both  tell  him ;  ve  go  at  vunce." 

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CLOSE   QUARTERS 

"Very  well,"  said  Jack.  "We'll  go  down. 
Will  you  go  first?" 

"I  t'ink  better  you." 

"But  I  opened  the  trap-door.  You  won't  know 
how  to  shut  it.  You  go  first  and  I'll  see  that  it  is 
properly  closed." 

"Ver'  veil.  It  is  a  good  idea." 

De  Fronsac  accordingly  stepped  on  to  the 
rope-ladder,  and  descended  with  a  rapidity  that 
seemed  to  show  he  had  indeed  had  no  little  ex- 
perience amongst  seamen.  Jack  followed,  closed 
the  trap-door,  and,  as  he  went  down,  threw  the 
iron  steps  one  by  one  to  the  ground,  where  the 
Frenchman  stood  awaiting  him. 

"Now  vat  shall  ve  do  viz  dem?"  asked  De 
Fronsac,  when  Jack  stood  beside  him.  "It  vas 
you  dat  discovered  dem,  Monsieur  Jack.  It  is 
to  you  to  decide  vat  ve  do.  It  is  right.  You  vill 
get  great  honor  viz  Monsieur  Bastable,  and  de 
Lor'  Lieutenant,  I  t'ink  you  call  de  great  man  of 
de  county." 

Jack  did  not  wish  to  return  the  steps  to  their 
original  hiding-place.  It  would  be  better,  he 

147 


JACK   HARDY] 

thought,  to  hide  them  among  the  bushes.  Ac- 
cordingly with  De  Fronsac's  assistance  he  car- 
ried them  into  the  thicket,  and  concealed  them 
under  a  heap  of  dead  leaves. 

"Now  ve  go  to  de  Grange?"  said  the  French- 
man. 

"Yes.  We  shall  be  rather  early;  Mr.  Bastable 
will  not  be  up  yet." 

He  intended  to  keep  De  Fronsac  in  sight  until 
he  had  an  opportunity  of  sending  a  messenger 
to  the  boat  for  a  number  of  men  to  remove  the 
kegs.  He  did  not  feel  sure  that  the  Frenchman's 
visit  to  the  tower  was  so  accidental  as  he  de- 
clared; and  a  bird  in  the  hand  was  worth  two  in 
the  bush. 

They  made  their  way  through  the  under- 
growth. With  the  frost  the  trees  had  now  lost 
nearly  all  their  leaves,  which  thickly  covered  the 
grass.  Jack  led  the  way,  the  Frenchman  follow- 
ing a  yard  or  two  behind,  maintaining  a  running 
fire  of  small  talk,  to  which  Jack  replied  with  an 
occasional  monosyllable.  On  the  edge  of  the 
Hollow  they  entered  a  dense  copse ;  there  was  a 

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sudden  rustle,  and  half  a  dozen  rough-clad  men 
with  blackened  faces  sprang  from  behind  the 
trees.  Jack's  hand  flew  to  his  breast-pocket 
where  he  kept  his  pistol,  but  before  he  could 
draw  it,  De  Fronsac  caught  his  arm,  crying: 

"Save  me,  Monsieur  Jack,  save  mel" 

In  spite  of  his  apparent  alarm,  his  grasp  was 
so  firm  that  Jack  was  quite  unable  to  draw  his 
weapon. 

"Let  me  go!"  he  cried  angrily,  trying  to  shake 
himself  free.  But  De  Fronsac  clung  to  him  still 
more  desperately,  repeating  his  cry  "Save  me!" 
In  another  moment  the  men  were  upon  him. 
Then  at  last  the  Frenchman  let  go  his  hold,  and 
Jack  found  himself  in  the  grip  of  two  stalwart 
fishers.  He  struggled  violently,  but  in  vain,  and 
in  a  few  seconds  more  he  was  lying  on  the 
ground  securely  gagged  and  bound. 

Then  his  eyes  were  bandaged,  he  was  blind- 
folded, lifted,  and  carried  rapidly  for  some  dis- 
tance. When  he  was  set  down  and  the  bandage 
removed  from  his  eyes,  he  saw  that  he  was  in  an 
underground  chamber,  dimly  lit  through  a 

149 


JACK   HARDY 

barred  grating  in  the  roof.  He  tried  to  speak, 
but  his  words  were  choked  by  the  gag. 

"Now  you  listen  to  me,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
whose  voice  he  thought  he  recognized.  "  'Taint 
no  good  shouting  or  struggling.  We've  got  ye 
firm,  Mr.  Hardy,  king's  officer  though  ye  be. 
So  long  as  you  give  us  no  trouble  you'll  take  no 
harm.  I'm  gwine  to  ease  that  there  gag;  but  if 
you  shout,  I'll  clap  it  on  again  and  keep  it  there. 
That's  plain.  Not  that  it  be  any  good  shouting, 
for  there's  never  a  soul  hereabout  but  the  men 
who'll  guard  ye." 

Jack  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  spend  his  strength 
and  his  breath  uselessly.  He  saw  that  he  was 
helpless,  and  mentally  vowed  to  be  even  with  De 
Fronsac  at  the  first  opportunity.  Suspicious  be- 
fore, he  now  felt  certain  that  the  Frenchman  had 
deliberately  trapped  him,  though  he  was 
amazed  to  find  that  the  poetical  tutor  was  a 
smuggler. 

He  remained  throughout  the  day  in  the  un- 
der-ground room,  guarded  all  the  time  by  one 
man,  who  sat  by  the  grating  and  refused  to  be 


CLOSE   QUARTERS 

drawn  into  any  talk.  He  was  given  some  bread 
and  cheese,  and  spirits  and  water  to  drink;  and  he 
spent  the  long  hours  in  wondering  what  was  to 
become  of  him,  and  in  relishing  beforehand  the 
punishment  he  meant  to  administer  to  De  Fron- 
sac  some  day.  To  think  of  escape  was  vain ;  the 
men  had  evidently  brought  him  down  by  a  lad- 
der, which  they  had  drawn  up  when  they  left, 
closing  and  bolting  the  trap-door. 

Who  were  they?  Jack  wondered.  What  was 
their  real  connection  with  De  Fronsac?  What 
would  they  do  with  him?  What  would  Babbage 
and  the  men  at  the  boat  do  when  he  did  not  re- 
turn? What  steps  would  Lieutenant  Blake  take 
when  he  found,  as  he  must  soon  do,  that  his 
midshipman  was  missing?  There  was  no  doubt 
that  the  smugglers  would  promptly  remove  the 
kegs  and  the  signaling  apparatus  from  the  Folly, 
and  they  would  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  clear 
away  before  the  boat's  crew  became  suspicious. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  Jack  guessed  by  the 
dimness  of  the  light  through  the  grating,  he 
heard  voices  above.  A  heavy  object  was  dropped 


JACK   HARPY 

on  the  floor;  the  trap-door  was  lifted,  a  ladder 
let  down,  and  three  men  descended  into  the 
room. 

"You  be  coming  along  of  us,"  said  the  man 
who  had  before  addressed  him. 

"Look  here,  whoever  you  are — "  Jack  began; 
but  he  said  no  more,  for  the  gag  was  roughly 
thrust  into  his  mouth,  he  was  once  more  blind- 
folded, and  taken  up  the  ladder.  Then  he  was 
lifted  from  the  floor  and  lowered  into  what  he 
judged  to  be  a  large  empty  water-butt. 

"Double  up  your  knees,  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  the 
man.  "You  be  going  a  little  journey." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Jack  feeling,  as  he 
afterward  said,  like  a  trussed  turkey,  sat  crouch- 
ing in  the  butt.  The  top  was  hammered  on. 
Then  the  butt  was  lifted,  carried  a  few  steps,  and 
hoisted  on  to  a  cart,  which  rumbled  away.  Jack 
was  more  angry  than  alarmed;  the  men  evi- 
dently intended  him  no  harm,  or  they  would 
have  knocked  him  on  the  head  before  this ;  but  a 
water-butt,  even  though  holes  have  been  bored 
in  its  sides  to  let  in  air,  is  not  the  most  comforta- 

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CLOSE   QUARTERS 

ble  of  vehicles,  and  Jack  was  beginning  to  feel 
cramped  and  bruised  and  half-stifled  when  the 
cart  stopped.  The  butt  was  lowered,  not  too 
gently;  Jack  was  pretty  well  shaken  up.  But  his 
former  experience  was  pleasant  compared  with 
his  sensations  when  the  butt  was  rolled  round 
and  round  on  its  lower  edge,  as  he  had  seen  dray- 
men rolling  barrels  of  beer.  His  head  fairly 
swam  by  the  time  the  teetotum  movement  ceased. 

Then  he  heard  voices  again,  and  the  creaking 
of  tackle. 

"I'm  at  the  shore,"  he  thought.  "Surely 
they're  not  going  to  set  me  afloat!"  The  idea  of 
going  adrift  in  a  water-butt  made  him  feel  sea- 
sick, till  he  remembered  that  it  was  impossible ; 
the  butt  would  fill  with  water,  and  if  they  wished 
to  drown  him  they  would  not  have  taken  so  much 
trouble. 

"Why,  'Zekiel,"  he  heard  a  man  say,  "was 
your  tub  leaking?" 

"A  trifle,  but  we've  bunged  it  up ;  'tis  all  ship- 
shape and  seaworthy  now." 

"  'Tis  mortal  heavy,  blamed  if  'tisn't." 
153 


JACK   HARDY 

"Course  it  is;  'tis  well-nigh  full." 

Two  or  three  low  chuckles  followed  this  sen- 
tence. Then  the  butt  was  rolled  up  what  seemed 
to  be  a  gradual  incline,  and  dropped  a  foot  or 
two  with  a  bump  that  set  Jack's  bones  clashing. 

"I'm  on  a  boat,"  he  thought,  "this  is  a  voyage 
of  adventure.  Wish  to  goodness  I  could  knock 
the  top  off  this  cage  of  mine  and  get  a  little  air." 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  wish,  a  few  minutes 
later,  when  he  felt  by  the  motion  that  the  boat 
was  putting  out  to  sea,  the  lid  was  knocked  off, 
the  gag  removed,  and  he  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief. 

"I  say,  you  men,"  he  said,  in  a  husky  voice 
that  sounded  like  that  of  a  stranger,  "undo  my 
eyes  and  hands,  and  let  me  out." 

There  was  no  answer.  He  remained  in  his 
cramped  and  uncomfortable  quarters  for  some 
hours,  his  repeated  requests  to  be  taken  out  pass- 
ing unheeded.  He  began  to  feel  very  low- 
spirited.  His  body  ached  all  over;  his  hands 
were  still  bound ;  and  the  butt  was  so  narrow  that 
he  could  hardly  shift  his  position  by  an  inch. 


CLOSE   QUARTERS 

His  chief  feeling  was  no  longer  rage  against  De 
Fronsac,  but  an  intense  longing  to  stretch  him- 
self. And  then,  strange  as  it  appeared  to  him,  he 
began  to  feel  sleepy. 

He  was  wakened  from  a  half-doze  by  a  loud 
hail,  answered  by  a  fainter  one  from  a  distance. 
A  few  seconds  later  he  was  released  from  the 
butt,  and  lowered,  still  bound,  over  the  side  of 
the  vessel  into  a  smaller  boat.  The  boat  did  not 
go  far;  after  a  few  strokes  of  the  oars  Jack  felt 
a  slight  bump ;  he  was  unceremoniously  hoisted 
again;  and  when  at  last  his  eyes  and  hands  were 
unbound,  and  he  had  recovered  the  use  of  his 
sight,  he  found  himself  on  board  a  lugger,  whose 
crew  had  the  swarthy  faces  and  red  caps  of 
French  fishermen.  Greetings  were  exchanged 
between  the  men  of  the  two  vessels;  then  the 
French  lugger  made  sail  and  stood  out  into  mid- 
channel. 

Jack  was  too  much  relieved  at  having  re- 
covered his  freedom  to  mind  where  he  was  go- 
ing. For  a  time  he  had  not  even  the  curiosity  to 
ask;  it  was  quite  enough  to  breathe  freely,  and 


JACK   HARDY 

use  his  eyes  and  stretch  his  limbs.  But  night  was 
drawing  on,  and  when  a  meager  supper  was 
brought  to  him  he  asked  in  French  for  what 
port  the  vessel  was  making. 

"No  port,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  man  with  a 
grin. 

"Well,  what  place,  then?" 
"Where  the  captain  commands,  Monsieur." 
"And   where    does    the    captain    command? 
Speak  out,  man." 

"Only  the  captain  knows,  Monsieur." 
Jack  gave  it  up.  The  man's  answers  were  per- 
fectly polite,  but  it  was  evident  he  had  received 
orders  to  tell  nothing.  Jack  was  taken  below  and 
made  fairly  comfortable.  When  morning 
dawned  and  he  was  allowed  to  go  on  deck  there 
was  no  land  in  sight.  But  about  midday  a 
coast-line  came  into  view,  and  in  the  evening, 
after  beating  about  for  hours,  a  strong  land  wind 
keeping  the  lugger  off  shore,  the  skipper  man- 
aged to  run  into  a  little  cove  beneath  high  cliffs. 
It  was  a  wild  part  of  the  Norman  coast;  there 

156 


CLOSE   QUARTERS 

were  no  dwellings  where  the  lugger  ran  ashore; 
and  Jack  had  to  tramp  for  several  miles  among 
the  Frenchmen,  over  a  rough  road,  before  they 
arrived  at  a  little  fishing  hamlet.  Here  he  had 
to  share  a  pallet  bed  in  the  auberge  with  one  of 
the  fishermen,  two  others  occupying  a  similar 
bed  at  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

Jack  and  his  bedfellow  both  found  it  difficult 
to  sleep,  and  the  Frenchman  proved  more 
loquacious  than  any  of  the  others.  He  could 
speak  no  English  save  a  few  words,  and  his 
French  was  so  broad  a  dialect  that  Jack,  who 
knew  little  French  at  the  best,  was  often  at  a  loss 
to  understand  him.  But  he  understood  enough 
to  learn  that  he  had  been  kept  in  an  underground 
chamber  near  the  Hollow  until  the  time  came 
when  a  boat  might  put  off,  ostensibly  for  night 
fishing,  really  to  convey  the  prisoner  to  the 
French  lugger,  the  whereabouts  of  which  would 
be  known  to  the  Luscombe  smugglers.  He  had 
been  carried  on  board  the  boat  from  the  cart 
openly  at  Luscombe  quay. 

157 


JACK   HARDY 

"Whose  boat  was  it?" 

"It  was  to  a  man — Monsieur  might  know  him 
— who  calls  himself  Goujon." 

"No,  I  don't  know  anybody  of  that  name. 
Who  is  he?" 

"He  is  Goujon;  that  is  all." 

"Is  he  a  fisherman?  What  is  he  like?" 

"I  have  never  seen  him,  Monsieur.  For  my- 
self, I  have  never  put  foot  to  land  in  England. 
But  the  captain  knows  him;  ah,  yes!  the  captain 
knows  Goujon." 

And  Jack  at  last  went  to  sleep,  wondering  who 
Goujon  could  be. 


158 


CHAPTER  X 

A  PRISONER  OF  FRANCE 

Next  morning  Jack  was  awakened  early  and 
told  that  he  must  march. 

"Very  happy,"  he  said,  "but  where  to?" 

'He  had  recovered  his  spirits.  No  misfortunes, 
no  bufferings,  can  long  depress  a  healthy  boy  of 
sixteen.  Consequently  when  he  learned  that  he 
was  to  tramp  to  Boulogne,  more  than  fifty  miles 
away,  he  received  the  information  with  a  smile. 
His  chief  thought  was :  "Perhaps  I  shall  see  that 
Monstair,  Boney  himself!"  The  prospect  of  a 
fifty-mile  walk  in  keen,  bright  weather  did  not 
daunt  him. 

He  was  accompanied  by  the  skipper  of  the 
lugger  and  several  of  the  men.  Now  that  they 
were  on  French  soil  they  had  lost  their  reluc- 
tance to  talk,  and  before  many  miles  had  been 
covered  Jack  was  chatting  as  freely  as  his  com- 
mand of  the  language  permitted,  and  laughing 


JACK   HARDY 

at  the  misunderstandings  that  occurred  on  both 
sides.  He  learned  one  fact  that  made  him  feel 
sorry.  A  few  days  before,  Admiral  Keith  had 
exploded  some  vessels  among  a  hundred  and 
fifty  of  the  French  praams  at  their  anchorage 
outside  the  pier  at  Boulogne.  But  this  attempt  to 
destroy  the  flotilla  had  not  succeeded,  the  vessels 
having  been  separated  by  distances  too  wide  for 
the  explosion  to  have  the  destructive  effect  in- 
tended. The  French  smugglers  were  much 
elated  at  Admiral  Keith's  failure,  and  amused 
Jack  by  their  confident  assertion  that  before  long 
Bonaparte,  or  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  as  he  was 
beginning  to  be  called,  would  make  himself 
King  of  England. 

Boulogne  was  reached  at  the  end  of  the  second 
day's  march.  Jack  was  taken  to  a  commissary  of 
the  forces.  He  did  not  learn  till  some  time  after- 
ward what  story  the  skipper  told.  It  was  to  the 
effect  that  his  lugger,  while  making  for  Bou- 
logne from  St.  Malo,  had  been  becalmed  off 
Barfleur,  within  sight  of  an  English  frigate 
which  lay  about  two  miles  astern.  A  boat  had 

1 60 


A   PRISONER  OF   FRANCE 

been  sent  from  the  frigate  to  capture  the  lugger. 
Attempting  to  board,  the  English  crew  had 
been  driven  back  with  severe  loss,  and  this 
young  officer,  who  had  been  foremost  of  the 
boarding  party,  had  been  left  in  the  Frenchmen's 
hands. 

Whether  the  commissary  believed  the  story 
Jack  never  knew.  Certainly  it  was  acted  upon. 
'He  was  handed  over  to  the  keeper  of  the  town 
prison,  and  lodged  in  the  cells  below  the  old 
belfry  tower.  Next  day,  however,  he  was  re- 
moved and  conveyed  under  a  guard  a  few  miles 
westward  toward  Etaples.  As  he  left  the  belfry 
with  other  prisoners  amid  an  escort  of  gend- 
armes, he  saw  riding  up  the  hill  towards  Wimer- 
eux  a  group  of  horsemen,  led  by  a  stout  little 
soldier  in  brilliant  uniform.  The  gendarmes 
saluted;  the  little  man  gave  a  curt  and  careless 
acknowledgment,  and  cantered  on.  It  was  Bona- 
parte himself,  riding  to  review  the  army  he  was 
collecting  for  the  invasion  of  England.  Jack 
recognized  him  by  his  likeness  to  the  caricatures 
he  had  seen  at  home. 

161 


"  'Tis  something  to  have  seen  the  wonderful 
Boney!"  he  thought. 

Not  far  from  Etaples  he  was  placed  with  a 
number  of  other  prisoners,  all  English  seamen, 
in  an  old  chateau  about  a  mile  from  the  sea.  It 
had  evidently  been  at  one  time  a  pleasant  coun- 
try-house, but  from  its  partly  dilapidated  condi- 
tion Jack  inferred  that  it  had  suffered  during 
the  revolutionary  riots  thirteen  or  fourteen  years 
before.  It  was  now  used  as  an  overflow  prison, 
the  regular  prisons  of  the  town  being  filled.  The 
English  prisoners  in  France  always  out- 
numbered the  French  prisoners  in  England, 
owing  to  the  greater  enterprise  of  English  sea- 
men, which  often  led  them  to  attempt  impossible 
feats  and  threw  them  into  the  power  of  the 
enemy. 

The  prisoners  were  kept  on  the  top  floor  of  the 
chateau,  several  rooms  having  been  knocked  into 
one.  The  windows  were  barred;  there  were  two 
stories  beneath;  outside,  the  walled  park  all 
round  the  house  was  regularly  patrolled  by  sen- 
tries; and  there  was  a  guard  constantly  at  the 

162 


A   PRISONER   OF    FRANCE 

gate.  The  wall  bordering  the  grounds  was  about 
nine  feet  high  and  spiked  at  the  top.  These  facts 
were  at  once  noted  by  Jack,  for  the  instant  he 
was  shut  up  he  began  to  think  of  escape ;  but  the 
outlook  was  not  promising. 

If  he  wished  to  escape  at  the  first,  his  longing 
was  intensified  after  a  few  days  of  prison 
regime.  There  were  about  seventy  prisoners 
altogether,  and  twenty  jailers.  The  treatment 
was  not  far  short  of  brutal.  The  prisoners  had 
to  sleep  on  coarse  pallets  of  straw,  the  stalks  cut 
so  short  that  they  were  like  beds  of  spikes.  The 
food  consisted  of  nothing  but  brown  bread  and 
more  or  less  dirty  water.  One  and  a  half  sous  a 
day  were  allowed  by  the  government  to  each 
prisoner  for  the  purchase  of  extra  food — a 
miserably  insufficient  sum;  yet,  poor  as  it  was,  it 
more  often  found  its  way  into  the  pockets  of  the 
jailers  than  into  those  of  the  prisoners.  The 
rooms  were  never  properly  cleaned,  and  the  jail- 
ers thought  nothing  of  bullying  and  assaulting 
brutally  any  man  who  had  the  audacity  to  grum- 
ble. 

163 


JACK    HARDY 

Jack  had  the  good  luck  to  be  spared  some  of 
the  worst  hardships.  He  was  allowed  the  use  of 
a  small  room  off  the  larger  one — a  kind  of  ante- 
chamber, the  partition  of  which  was  only  half 
demolished  where  the  separate  rooms  had  been 
knocked  into  one  for  the  reception  of  the  prison- 
ers. A  door  opened  directly  on  the  staircase;  it 
was  kept  closed,  and  it  had  a  grating  through 
which  the  sentry  on  duty  could  watch  what  was 
going  on. 

The  warders,  drafted  from  two  companies  of 
infantry  in  the  neighboring  town,  were  relieved 
daily.  This  was  a  precaution  taken,  no  doubt,  to 
prevent  them  from  getting  tired  of  their  job  and 
relaxing  in  their  watchfulness.  At  all  hours  of 
the  night  the  steady  tramp  of  the  sentries  round 
the  house  could  be  heard  by  wakeful  prisoners 
above.  And  many  were  wakeful,  for  their  poor 
fare  was  ill  calculated  to  encourage  sleep,  and  as 
the  days  passed  they  shivered  with  the  cold.  It 
did  not  occur  to  the  officer  in  command,  a 
rough-tongued  captain  who  had  apparently 
risen  from  the  ranks,  to  provide  a  fire;  and  when 

164 


A   PRISONER   OF   FRANCE 

one  of  the  prisoners  ventured  to  ask  for  one,  he 
got  a  snubbing. 

Jack  was  the  only  officer  among  the  captives. 
He  learned  afterward  that  officers  were  often 
liberated  on  parole,  but  this  was  entirely  in  the 
discretion  of  the  district  commandant,  and  Jack 
was  unlucky  in  coming  into  the  hands  of  a  bully. 
He  tried  to  keep  cheerful,  but  it  was  hard  in 
such  depressing  surroundings.  The  only  pleas- 
ant part  of  the  day  was  the  short  interval  allowed 
for  exercise  in  the  park.  A  space  was  roped  off 
within  which  the  prisoners  might  run  or  walk; 
it  was  a  considerable  distance  from  the  wall,  and 
sentries  with  loaded  muskets  stood  on  guard. 
There  was  thus  no  chance  of  making  a  dash  for 
liberty;  but  the  opportunity  of  stretching  their 
legs  in  the  open  for  twenty  minutes  was  a  boon 
to  men  accustomed  to  the  freedom  of  life  on 
the  sea. 

Thus  four  months  passed.  Every  day  was  like 
another.  A  little  news  came  to  the  prisoners  at 
times  through  the  jailers — how  further  attempts 
to  destroy  the  flotilla  of  praams  at  Boulogne  had 

165 


JACK   HARDY 

been  defeated ;  how  the  English  had  attacked  in 
vain  Fort  Rouge  at  Calais  Harbor;  how  Napo- 
leon had  been  at  last  crowned  emperor  by  the 
pope  in  the  church  of  Notre  Dame.  But  the 
news  which  Jack  eagerly  awaited,  of  a  great 
victory  won  by  Admiral  Nelson  at  sea,  never 
came. 

One  day  in  February,  when  snow  was  falling, 
a  new  batch  of  prisoners  was  brought  in,  to  the 
disgust  of  the  others,  for  the  room  was  already 
overcrowded.  But  Jack  was  pleased  and  vexed 
at  once  to  see  that  the  new  arrivals  were  no  other 
than  Babbage,  Turley,  and  a  dozen  more  from 
the  Fury. 

"Well!  I  never  did  see!"  ejaculated  the  bo'sun, 
when  Jack  hailed  him.  "Bless  my  eyes,  sir,  but 
I  thought  as  you  was  gone  to  glory — leastways 
to  Davy  Jones,  and  so  did  we  all.  How  did  you 
go  for  to  come  to  this  here  dirty  old  hulk  of  a 
French  prison,  sir?" 

Jack  told  the  whole  story. 

"What  happened  to  you  and  the  boat?"  he 
asked. 

166 


A   PRISONER   OF   FRANCE 

"Why,  sir,  we  waited  for  you  three  hours  or 
more,  as  we  was  bid,  and  when  you  didn't  come 
back,  I  said  as  how  we  ought  to  go  up  along  and 
find  you." 

"No,  you  didn't!"  interrupted  Turley;  "that 
was  me.  You  said  our  orders  was  to  wait  for  Mr. 
Hardy  three  hours,  and  the  three  hours  being 
up,  'twas  our  dooty  to  go  back  and  tell  Mr. 
Blake.  There,  then,  old  Sparrow-grass!" 

Evidently  Turley  supposed  that  on  French 
ground  the  claims  of  discipline  might  be  ig- 
nored. But  he  was  mistaken. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  Sparrow-grass?"  de- 
manded Jack  as  sternly  as  he  could. 

"Well,  sir,  I  know  that  his  rightful  name  is 
Ben  Babbage,  but  among  ourselves,  sir,  when  we 
thinks  of  it,  we  calls  him  Turnip — " 

"That'll  do,  Turley.  You'll  call  Mr.  Babbage 
by  his  right  name,  here  and  anywhere  else;  re- 
member that.  Go  on,  Babbage." 

"Well,  sir,  as  I  was  saying,  I  said  as  how  we 
ought  to  go  up  along  and  find  you.  So  go  we 
did;  but  though  we  spent  a  couple  of  hours 

167 


JACK   HARDY 

a-prowling  round  that  there  tower,  and  about  the 
village,  and  went  up  to  the  Grange  and  all, 
never  a  word  did  we  hear  of  you.  So  we  had  to 
give  it  up,  and  we  went  back  and  reported  you 
missing  to  Mr.  Blake.  He  put  in  at  Luscombe 
himself,  and  raised  a  deal  of  dust,  sir,  but  'twas 
no  good.  So  he  reported  you  to  the  admiral  at 
Portsmouth  as  missing,  and  we  got  another  of- 
ficer in  your  place,  a  slack-twisted  young — beg 
pardon,  sir,  I  was  a-going  to  do  what  Turley 
done,  sir,  call  names ;  but  I  won't — leastways,  not 
in  your  hearing,  sir." 

"And  how  did  you  become  prisoners,  too?" 
"Why,  sir,  a  Mounseer's  sloop  set  on  us  t'other 
day  when  we  was  running  before  a  stiff  gale. 
The  poor  little  Fury's  topmast  was  carried  away 
and  the  mainmast  sprung.  The  sloop  hugged 
us  till  the  wind  dropped;  then  she  came  up 
alongside  and  boarded.  She  had  three  times  our 
number,  and  they  must  have  bred  different 
Frenchmen  in  the  days  when  one  Englishman 
was  equal  to  three ;  we  did  our  best,  as  you  may 
believe;  she  lost  half  her  men,  but  the  other  half 

1 68 


A   PRISONER   OF   FRANCE 

was  still  double  what  was  left  of  us,  so  we  had 
to  haul  down  our  colors,  in  a  manner  of  speak- 
ing. Mr.  Blake  and  the  new  midshipman  have 
been  marched  off,  I  did  hear,  to  a  place  called 
Verdun ;  here's  the  rest  of  us,  what  was  left,  and 
if  you'll  look  out  of  the  window,  you'll  see  the 
poor  little  Fury  lying  off  the  quay  there.  I 
s'pose  they'll  patch  her  up  and  call  her  by  a  new 
name,  and  that's  enough  to  make  any  English: 
man's  blood  boil,  it  is." 

Jack  was  angry  as  Babbage  at  the  success  of 
the  sloop  in  capturing  the  cutter.  But  he  felt 
somewhat  cheered  at  the  sight  of  the  faces  of  his 
messmates;  and  their  presence,  strangely  enough, 
set  him  again  thinking  of  escape.  Babbage  was 
a  seasoned  and  knowing  old  salt,  and  Jack  re- 
solved to  have  a  long  and  private  talk  with  him 
at  the  first  opportunity. 

• 

But  though  in  the  course  of  a  week  they  had 
many  such  talks — in  the  park  while  exercising, 
in  the  little  antechamber  at  dead  of  night — they 
almost  despaired  of  hitting  upon  any  likely  plan 
of  regaining  their  liberty.  There  was  no  chance 

169 


JACK   HARDY 

of  silencing  the  sentries  at  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case ;  any  attempt  to  break  open  the  door  would 
at  once  be  heard  outside,  and  the  whole  force  of 
warders,  all  soldiers,  would  be  on  the  alert.  The 
bars  across  the  windows  might  indeed  be 
loosened  or  forcibly  wrenched  out,  and  the  bed- 
clothes— if  the  material  of  which  they  were 
made  was  not  too  poor — might  be  torn  up  and 
knotted  to  form  a  rope;  but  a  small  light  was 
kept  burning  in  the  room  all  night,  and  any 
work  at  the  windows  would  certainly  be  seen  by 
the  sentries  at  the  door  and  by  the  men  patrolling 
outside. 

"Ah  now!  if  only  brother  Sol  was  here!" 
sighed  Babbage  one  evening,  when  Jack  and  he 
had  been  talking  over  every  plan  that  suggested 
itself,  possible  and  impossible. 

"What  could  he  do?"  asked  Jack. 

"  'Twas  a  saying  of  his,  sir,  'Nary  a  way  in  but 
a  way  out/  though  I  said  to  him,  What  about  a 
mouse-trap?'  Ah,  brother  Sol  'ud  see  the  way 
out  of  this  here  trap  if  any  man  could." 

"Well,  I  wish  this  brother  Sol  of  yours  would 

170 


A    PRISONER   OF    FRANCE 

get  himself  captured  and  come  here.   Where  is 
he?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  I  haven't  seed  him  for  four 
and  twenty  year.  But  well  I  mind  the  last  thing 
he  said  to  me  when  he  went  away.  'Ben,'  says 
he,  'God  bless  you!'  I  never  forgot  them  feeling 
words,  sir." 

"I  suppose  not.  As  he  isn't  here  we  must  do 
without  him.  We  must  get  out  somehow,  Bab- 
bage.  I,  for  one,  am  not  going  to  rot  in  France 
for  half  a  dozen  years.  Is  there  anything  we 
haven't  thought  of?" 

Babbage  pursed  his  lips  and  pondered. 

"We've  thought  of  everything  from  window 
to  ground,"  he  said  presently.  "The  only  thing 
we  haven't  thought  of  is  the  roof,  and  we  want  to 
go  down,  not  up — leastways,  not  yet." 

"I  don't  know.  What  about  the  chimney?" 

"No  good,  sir.  Haven't  I  seed  the  sergeant 
of  the  guard  poke  his  nose  up  every  day  to  see 
if  the  bars  are  safe?  They're  just  fixed  so  that 
no  nat'ral  man's  head  could  pass  between.  Must 
ha'  bin  done  a  purpose." 

171 


JACK    HARDY 

"Does  the  sergeant  examine  them  carefully?" 

"No,  sir;  he  just  stoops  down,  and  cocks  his 
head  around,  and  gives  a  squint  up,  and  many's 
the  time  I'd  ha'  liked  to  take  advantage  of  the 
sitivation  to  kick  him,  only  I  thought  I'd  better 
not.  'Kicks  is  poor  tricks,'  too,  as  brother  Sol 
used  to  say." 

"Well,  I'll  come  into  your  room  to-night,  and 
have  a  look  at  them.  Luckily  the  chimney  is  on 
the  same  side  as  the  door;  the  sentry  won't  see 
me.  We  might  be  able  to  loosen  those  bars  and 
clear  the  chimney." 

"And  what  then,  sir?" 

"I'd  climb  the  roof  and  take  a  look  round. 
Can't  say  more  at  present." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

In  the  small  hours  Jack  crept  quietly  into  the 
larger  room  and  got  into  the  chimney  unob- 
served. The  bars  were  just  above  his  head,  and 
he  very  soon  decided  that  with  a  sufficiently  hard 
implement  he  could  loosen  the  mortar  about 
their  ends.  That  was  the  doubtful  matter.  The 
knives  supplied  to  a  few  of  the  prisoners  who 

172 


A   PRISONER   OF    FRANCE 

were  given  meat  for  their  dinner  were  removed 
by  the  jailers  after  the  meal,  and  all  weapons  had 
of  course  been  taken  from  the  men  before  they 
were  brought  into  the  room.  But  next  morning 
Jack  managed  to  force  a  long  rusty  nail  out  of 
one  of  the  planks  of  the  floor  of  his  room;  it 
seemed  to  him  stout  and  strong  enough  for  his 
purpose. 

It  was  necessary  to  take  the  rest  of  the  prison- 
ers into  his  confidence.  He  got  Babbage  to  tell 
them  what  he  had  in  view,  and  as  they  were  all 
Englishmen,  with  just  as  keen  a  longing  for 
liberty  as  himself,  there  was  no  fear  of  their 
betraying  him.  As  soon  as  the  jailers  had  dis- 
tributed the  morning  rations  he  slipped  into  the 
chimney.  Half  a  dozen  of  the  men,  gathered  as 
if  casually  near  the  fireplace,  screened  him  from 
any  one  who  might  suddenly  enter  the  room.  He 
began  to  scrape  away  the  mortar  at  one  end  of 
each  of  the  bars,  working  as  quickly  as  he  could. 
Turley  swept  up  with  his  hand  the  flakes  of  mor- 
tar that  fell  to  the  floor.  By  the  evening  Jack 
) 
had  worked  so  well  that  one  bar  was  loosened 


JACK   HARDY 

sufficiently  to  be  bent  down  when  the  time  came. 
Then  he  got  some  of  the  men  to  tear  off  scraps 
of  their  woolen  shirts,  and  with  these  he  filled 
up  the  holes,  so  that  even  if  the  bar  was  tested  by 
the  sergeant  there  was  a  good  chance  that  it 
would  hold  well  enough  to  prevent  discovery. 

The  scraping  occupied  him  for  two  more  days 
— one  bar  a  day.  By  the  time  he  had  finished  he 
found  that  the  nail  which  had  served  him  so  well 
was  worn  to  within  half  an  inch  of  the  head. 

He  determined  to  make  an  expedition  up  the 
chimney  on  that  third  evening,  if  circumstances 
proved  favorable.  After  the  evening  meal  of 
bread  and  water  he  got  Ben  to  use  his  strength  in 
bending  down  the  bars.  Then  he  crawled 
through  and  began  to  ascend.  It  was  a  tight  fit. 
The  chimney  was  narrow;  but  Jack,  never  stout, 
had  grown  thin  on  the  prison  fare,  and  he 
wormed  his  way  up  by  the  aid  of  projecting 
bricks  left  for  the  chimney-sweep;  those  were 
the  days  of  chimney  climbing.  The  flue  was  not 
very  dirty;  evidently  no  fires  had  been  lighted 
below  for  a  long  time. 


A   PRISONER   OF   FRANCE 

He  reached  the  top  without  mishap.  There 
was  no  chimney-pot.  Looking  cautiously  out, 
showing  as  little  of  his  head  as  possible,  he  saw 
the  sea  rippling  far  below  in  the  distance,  shin- 
ing ruddy  in  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun.  A 
strong  easterly  breeze  was  blowing.  To  the  right 
lay  the  harbor  and  town.  To  the  left  were  two 
sloops  and  three  or  four  praams;  alongside  the 
nearest  sloop  a  coasting  brig;  then  two  fishing 
smacks.  A  cable's  length  from  these  lay  the 
Fury,  now  apparently  refitted  with  new  main- 
and  topmasts,  and  eastward  of  her,  a  little  far- 
ther out,  a  lugger  and  another  smack.  Jack 
guessed  that,  besides  the  Fury,  only  the  sloops 
and  the  praams  were  likely  to  be  armed  with 
cannon,  though  the  lugger  might  carry  a  small 
gun. 

The  immediate  surroundings  of  the  chateau 
were  out  of  sight,  except  to  his  left,  being 
screened  by  the  parapet  of  the  flat  roof  some  feet 
away  from  the  chimney.  Except  at  one  point, 
where  the  roof  of  an  outbuilding  rose  nearly  to 
the  same  elevation  as  the  part  where  he  was 


JACK    HARDY 

perched,  there  was  a  sheer  drop  of  fifteen  feet 
from  the  top  of  the  chimney-stack. 

It  was  a  sloping  roof,  and  Jack  made  up  his 
mind  to  crawl  down  it  until  he  came  to  a  chimney 
of  the  outbuilding,  from  which  a  thin  spiral  of 
smoke  was  rising.  But  he  waited  until  the  dusk 
had  deepened  before  he  thought  it  safe  to  emerge. 
Then  he  crept  carefully  down  till  he  reached 
the  smoking  chimney.  The  roof  there  was  not 
quite  as  high  as  the  other;  the  drop  was  about 
five  feet;  and  he  guessed  from  the  position  that 
below  the  chimney  were  the  servants'  quarters. 
Two  other  chimneys  beyond  were  smoking; 
these,  he  thought,  must  belong  to  the  rooms  oc- 
cupied by  the  guard.  The  other  chimneys,  from 
which  no  smoke  was  rising,  could  only  be 
reached  by  dropping  some  twelve  feet  and 
climbing  an  equal  distance ;  and  to  do  that  would 
involve  the  risk  of  being  seen  or  heard. 

Jack  placed  his  hand  on  the  side  of  the  chim- 
ney from  which  a  thin  smoke  was  coming.  There 
was  so  little  heat  in  the  bricks  that  he  guessed  the 
fire  below  had  been  allowed  to  die  down.  His 

176 


A   PRISONER   OF    FRANCE 

guess  was  confirmed  when  he  put  his  hand  in  the 
air  over  the  mouth  of  the  chimney:  it  was 
scarcely  warm.  He  resolved  to  climb  down  and 
find  out  whither  the  chimney  led.  Thin  as  it 
was,  the  smoke  in  the  narrow  space  was  rather 
suffocating,  and  he  felt  a  certain  dread  lest  he 
should  cough  and  betray  his  presence.  There 
seemed  no  end  to  the  chimney,  as  step  by  step 
he  let  himself  down,  moving  with  extreme  cau- 
tion to  avoid  making  any  sound  that  could  be 
heard  below.  As  he  approached  the  bottom  he 
was  relieved  to  find  that  the  heat  did  not  per- 
ceptibly increase.  The  fire  must  be  almost  dead. 
He  was  dislodging  soot  from  the  walls ;  would  it 
be  seen  by  the  persons  in  the  room?  Perhaps  if 
they  saw  it  they  would  think  it  due  to  the  strong 
wind.  Perhaps  there  was  nobody  in  the  room. 
He  heard  no  voices,  no  sound  of  movement, 
though  he  saw  there  was  a  light.  The  chimney 
was  a  good  deal  wider  at  the  point  he  had 
reached,  and  he  wondered  if  it  led  to  the  kitchen. 
Waiting  a  little  to  make  sure  that  the  room 
was  unoccupied,  he  at  length  ventured  to  slip 

177 


JACK   HARDY 

down  to  the  grate  and  peep  into  the  room.  It 
was  empty  of  people.  A  large  table  stood  in  the 
middle;  kitchen  utensils  hung  from  pegs  on  the 
walls;  the  door  was  ajar,  and  he  now  heard 
voices,  proceeding  evidently  from  an  adjoining 
room. 

On  the  hearth  was  a  long  iron  poker.  "That 
may  prove  useful,"  he  thought;  and  leaping 
lightly  down  he  seized  it.  A  large  chopper  hung 
to  a  nail  at  the  side  of  the  chimney.  This  also 
he  secured.  Then  creeping  to  the  door,  he 
peeped  round  from  the  level  of  the  floor.  Three 
men  were  seated  at  a  table  enjoying  their  supper. 
This  was  apparently  the  cook's  room.  The  men 
were  very  much  at  their  ease.  A  large  fire  of 
logs  threw  a  glow  upon  their  faces;  a  bottle  of 
wine  had  been  emptied;  the  smell  of  fried  onions 
teased  Jack's  appetite.  He  listened  to  the  men's 
conversation. 

"Monsieur  le  capitaine  will  bring  two  guests 
to  supper,"  said  one. 

"Peste!"  growled  a  second,  the  fattest  of  all, 
by  whom,  as  Jack  now  saw,  a  cook's  white  cap 

178 


A   PRISONER   OF   FRANCE 

lay,  "he  will  keep  us  up  late.  Monsieur  le  capi- 
taine  is  so  particular.  A  supper  fit  for  Bonaparte 
is  not  good  enough  for  him.  The  kitchen  fire 
will  have  to  be  made  up.  Go  and  see  to  it,  Jules." 
The  man  addressed  scraped  his  plate  and 
drank  his  wine  before  lazily  rising  to  do  the 
cook's  bidding.  Jack  flew  back  with  the  speed  of 
a  hare,  and  before  the  man  had  pushed  back  his 
chair  the  adventurer  was  several  feet  up  the 
chimney,  grasping  his  precious  spoil,  the  poker 
and  the  chopper. 


179 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  BREAK  FOR  FREEDOM 

"By  Jove!"  thought  Jack  with  a  chuckle  as  he 
scrambled  out  of  the  chimney,  "won't  there  be  a 
rumpus  when  the  cook  misses  his  poker!  Luck- 
ily, he'll  never  think  it  has  gone  aloft!" 

It  was  a  very  sooty  object  that  descended, 
after  pausing  to  make  sure  that  all  was  safe,  into 
the  prisoners'  room.  Jack  was  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  the  Fury's  men,  so  eager 
to  hear  what  had  happened  that  they  raised  their 
voices  and  provoked  an  angry  reprimand  from 
the  sentry  at  the  door. 

"Silence,  you  donkeys!"  whispered  Jack. 

"Avast  your  jabber!"  said  Babbage,  scowling 
upon  Turley.  "Me  and  Mr.  Hardy  have  got  to 
lay  the  course  for  this  little  venture." 

After  this  the  men  behaved  more  discreetly, 
and  left  Jack  alone  with  Babbage. 

"Now,  Babbage,"  said  Jack,  when  he  had  fin- 

180 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

ished  his  story,  "we're  going  to  escape,  and  I'll 
tell  you  how." 

"Not  up  the  chimbley,  sir?  I'd  squeeze  my- 
self as  small  as  I  could,  but  I'm  afeard  I  should 
stick  fast  and  spoil  the  whole  boiling." 

"No,  no;  you're  too  fat  for  the  chimney. 
You'll  be  left  in  charge  till  you  hear  a  hubbub 
below;  then  you're  to  break  open  the  door  and 
make  a  dash  for  it  at  the  head  of  the  men." 

"Why,  I'll  obey  orders,  sir;  Ben  Babbage  al- 
ways obeys  orders ;  but,  begging  your  pardon,  it 
beats  me  how  I'm  to  break  the  door  open  with 
a  poker  and  a  chopper — 

"Babbage,  if  you  make  any  more  difficulties 
you'll  never  see  your  brother  Sol,  for  here  you'll 
stay.  You  shall  have  other  tools  by  and  by.  You 
understand,  nothing  is  to  be  done  until  you  hear 
the  signal;  it  will  be  loud  enough,  I  promise 
you.  I  shall  wait  until  the  captain's  guests  have 
gone.  That  will  probably  be  late;  so  there'll 
be  plenty  of  time  for  us  to  make  a  rope.  No, 
don't  speak.  I  haven't  done  yet.  We'll  tear  up 
the  coverlets — they're  precious  thin,  but  we 

181 


JACK   HARDY 

haven't  any  better — and  twist  up  a  rope  long 
enough  to  reach  from  the  top  of  the  chimney  to 
the  bottom:  about  fifty  feet,  I  should  think. 
Then  I'll  take  it  with  me  and  four  or  five  of  the 
men,  Turley  for  one— 

"Begging  your  pardon,  sir — 

"What?" 

"Begging  your  pardon,  sir, — not  Turley,  but 


me." 


"Oh,  very  well!  You're  too  fat  for  the  chim- 
ney at  present,  as  you  owned  yourself,  but  we 
could  get  something  off  you  with  the  chopper." 

Babbage  grinned  sheepishly,  and  made  no  fur- 
ther suggestions. 

Several  hours  later,  Jack,  at  the  window,  heard 
loud  voices  and  laughter  in  the  courtyard  below. 
The  captain's  guests  were  evidently  departing. 
Allowing  an  hour  to  pass,  sufficient,  he  thought, 
for  the  captain  and  the  servants  to  have  settled 
into  their  beauty  sleep,  he  signed  to  his  four  se- 
lected men,  and  led  the  way  up  the  chimney, 
Turley  carrying  the  rope.  They  clambered 
across  the  roof  and  came  to  the  kitchen  chimney. 

182 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

"Now,  Turley,"  said  Jack,  "pay  out  the  rope 
as  I  go  down.  By  George !  'tis  a  good  deal  hot- 
ter than  when  I  was  here  before." 

He  got  down  into  the  chimney,  leaving  the 
four  men  on  the  roof.  It  was  indeed  very  hot; 
the  kitchen  fire,  made  up  for  cooking  the  supper, 
had  evidently  not  yet  died  down.  Fortunately 
there  was  little  smoke;  even  without  it  the  air 
was  so  stifling  that  Jack  was  surprised  that  he 
reached  the  bottom  safely.  He  jumped  when 
his  feet  touched  the  grate ;  they  were  protected 
only  by  his  stockings. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  room,  but  the  glow 
of  the  dying  fire  was  strong  enough  to  show  him 
that  it  was  empty.  He  tiptoed  to  the  three  doors. 
The  back  door  was  locked  and  bolted;  the  door 
of  the  cook's  room  was  closed  but  not  locked,  and 
he  heard  snores  from  within;  the  third  door, 
leading  to  the  rest  of  the  house,  he  supposed,  was 
ajar,  and  a  dim  light  came  through  the  opening. 

A  little  more  light  was  necessary.  Not  without 
a  tremor,  Jack  ventured  to  put  on  the  embers 
one  or  two  small  chips  of  wood  that  were  drying 

183 


JACK   HARDY 

at  the  side  of  the  grate.  They  kindled,  and  lit 
the  room  with  a  dancing  flame,  which  Jack  fer- 
vently hoped  would  not  attract  the  attention  of 
the  sentry  outside.  He  had  already  seen  that  the 
shutters  of  the  window  were  closed;  he  trusted 
there  was  no  chink  to  betray  him. 

The  first  thing  was  to  get  arms  of  some  kind 
for  his  men.  A  poker  and  a  chopper  he  had 
already  purloined,  much  to  the  mystification  of 
the  cook,  no  doubt.  Ah!  there  was  a  rolling- 
pin  hanging  by  a  loop  from  a  nail  in  the  wall. 
Down  it  came;  in  a  trice  he  tied  it  to  the  thin 
rope.  Giving  this  a  gentle  tug,  he  saw  the  roll- 
ing-pin disappear  up  the  chimney. 

Then  he  looked  round  quickly  for  more  weap- 
ons. Yes;  there  was  a  cleaver,  a  gridiron,  a  fry- 
ing-pan. 

"I  must  have  them,"  he  said  to  himself.  By  the 
time  he  had  taken  them  down  from  their  nails, 
the  rope  was  hanging  once  more  within  reach. 
One  by  one  they  followed  the  rolling-pin.  An- 
other hunt  on  tiptoe  round  the  room  yielded  a 
brass  candlestick,  a  braizing-pan,  several  dish- 

184 


A   BREAK   FOR    FREEDOM 

covers  which  he  rejected  as  being  too  clumsy  to 
wield,  a  big  soup-ladle,  and  a  couple  of  long 
carving-knives.  There  were  saucepans  in  plenty, 
but  too  big  for  his  purpose.  He  had  to  be  content 
with  the  ten  articles  he  had  obtained — rude 
weapons,  indeed,  but  likely  to  be  formidable  in 
the  hands  of  determined  and  desperate  men.  As- 
the  utensils  of  metal  passed  up  the  chimney  they 
clicked  more  than  once  on  the  wall,  and  Jack's 
heart  beat  faster  as  he  wondered  if  the  sounds 
would  be  heard.  But  no  doubt  there  were  mice 
and  rats  behind  these  old  walls ;  blessed  rats  and 
mice! 

After  waiting  a  little  to  make  sure  that  the 
cook  and  his  assistants  had  not  been  disturbed, 
he  prepared  to  go  farther  afield.  Creeping  to 
the  door  that  stood  ajar,  he  pushed  it  a  little. 
It  moved  with  a  creak  which  must  surely,  Jack 
thought,  be  heard  all  over  the  house.  He  waited 
breathlessly;  there  was  no  sound.  But  he  could 
not  risk  a  continuous  creaking.  Taking  his  cour- 
age in  both  hands  he  pushed  the  door  quickly, 
stopping  it  with  a  jerk.  It  made  never  a  sound. 


JACK   HARDY 

Jack  saw  by  the  light  of  a  small  lamp  that  it 
opened  into  a  narrow  passage,  with  a  door  at  the 
end.  He  crept  along  the  wall.  The  farther  door 
was  not  closed.  He  peeped  in. 

"The  salle  a  manger!"  he  thought.  There  was 
the  table  at  which  the  captain  had  entertained 
his  guests. 

To  the  left  there  was  another  passage  at  right 
angles  to  the  first.  A  narrow  staircase  led,  he 
supposed,  to  the  servants'  rooms.  A  few  steps 
along  the  passage  brought  him  to  the  entrance 
hall,  from  which  sprang  the  main  staircase.  He 
looked  up.  He  was  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  well, 
extending,  it  appeared,  to  the  top  of  the  mansion. 
He  shrank  back  into  the  shade  of  the  huge  post 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs;  for  if  the  sentries  out- 
side the  prisoners'  room  chanced  to  hear  a  move- 
ment below  and  looked  over,  they  would  cer- 
tainly see  him. 

Then  he  cast  back,  and  came  to  the  back  stair- 
case. The  steps  were  of  stone;  he  might  ascend 
without  the  danger  of  creaking;  and  he  must 
see  whither  these  stairs  led.  He  went  up  the 

186 


A   BREAK    FOR   FREEDOM 

steps  in  pitch  darkness,  and  found  himself  on  a 
landing.  Groping  along  the  wall,  he  knew  that 
he  was  in  a  stone-flagged  corridor.  Ah!  at  the 
end  there  was  a  streak  of  light.  Tiptoeing  along, 
he  came  to  a  door  partly  open.  Dared  he  peep 
round  it?  He  paused  for  a  few  seconds. 

"Hang  it!"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  wish  my 
heart  wouldn't  thump  so!"  He  listened:  how 
these  Frenchmen  snored!  Were  they  all  asleep? 
He  took  a  step  forward;  then  felt  a  sudden  un- 
reasoning fear,  and  stole  back  for  several  yards. 
In  a  few  seconds  he  had  collected  himself  and 
returned  to  the  door. 

Now  he  ventured  to  put  his  head  into  the 
room.  A  dozen  men — he  would  have  said  a  score 
at  the  first  moment — were  asleep  on  rough  set- 
tles against  the  wall.  They  had  their  clothes  on, 
as  if  in  bivouac,  ready  for  action  at  a  moment's 
notice.  A  smoky  lamp  hung  from  a  bracket  on 
the  wall.  In  the  corner  of  the  fireplace,  where 
there  was  a  faint  glow,  were  stacked  the  men's 
muskets.  The  key  of  the  room  was  on  the  inside. 

Having  taken  all  this  in  at  a  glance,  Jack  care- 
187 


JACK   HARDY 

fully  withdrew,  returned  along  the  passage  and 
down  the  stairs,  and  arrived  once  more  at  the 
kitchen.  Two  sharp  tugs  at  the  rope  brought 
Turley  to  his  side;  at  short  intervals  the  other 
three  appeared. 

"All  safe!"  whispered  Jack.  "You've  taken 
the  things  to  Babbage,  Turley?" 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"That's  well.  Now,  Turley,  that's  the  cook's 
room.  You'll  stay  and  watch  the  door.  If  any 
one  tries  to  break  out,  you'll  know  what  to  do. 
You  other  men  come  with  me." 

He  led  them  quietly  along  the  passage  and  up 
the  staircase.  At  the  landing  he  halted. 

"The  guards  are  in  that  room  at  the  end  of 
the  corridor,"  he  whispered.  "I'm  going  in  to 
try  and  get  their  muskets.  If  I'm  discovered, 
you  three  make  a  rush  and  get  hold  of  the  mus- 
kets. Never  mind  about  me.  You  understand." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

'He  crept  stealthily  into  the  room.  The  men's 
cartridge-belts  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  table.  Tak- 
ing care  to  make  no  noise,  Jack  lifted  two  or 

1 88 


Jack,  with  a  straight  right-hander,  sent  him  spinning  over    Page  189 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

three,  one  at  a  time,  and  handed  them  to  his  men. 
Then  he  approached  the  pile  of  arms.  With  the 
gentlest  of  movements  he  released  two  of  the 
muskets,  one  with  each  hand,  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  pile.  Would  the  balance  be  disturbed? 
No,  all  was  safe.  He  passed  the  weapons  out  of 
the  room,  and  turned  to  remove  a  third  and  a 
fourth.  But  who  had  make  that  click?  It  was 
one  of  the  men  outside.  Jack  looked  anxiously 
at  the  sleeping  forms.  Had  any  of  them  been 
awakened? 

One  of  the  Frenchmen  turned,  sat  up,  rubbed 
his  eyes — and  saw  the  English  prisoner! 

"Au  voleur!  au  prisonnier!  aux  armes!  Eveil- 
lez-vous,  mes  camarades!" 

He  was  so  sleepy  that  he  scarcely  knew  what 
he  was  saying;  but  his  shout  roused  his  com- 
panions. As  they  turned,  too  heavy  with  sleep 
to  have  all  their  wits  about  them,  Jack's  three 
men  sprang  in,  and  in  a  twinkling  seized  the  re- 
maining muskets  and  rushed  back  into  the  pass- 
age. The  first  Frenchman  was  now  on  his  feet. 
Jack  with  a  straight  right-hander  sent  him  spin- 

180 


JACK    HARDY 

ning  over;  then  he  dashed  to  the  door,  slipped  the 
key  out  of  one  side  of  the  lock  and  into  the  other, 
and  just  as  two  of  the  other  men  were  lurching 
toward  him,  skipped  outside,  slammed  the  door, 
and  turned  the  key. 

"Now,  men,  after  me!"  he  cried. 

He  raced  along  the  corridor,  conscious  of  a 
tremendous  uproar  in  the  guard-room — cries, 
oaths,  violent  thumps  and  kicks  on  the  door.  Up 
the  stairs!  There  were  the  sentries  at  the  top, 
startled  out  of  their  wits.  What  was  happening? 
Hubbub  below,  hubbub  in  the  prisoners'  room! 
The  prisoners  were  actually  battering  at  the 
door!  And  with  heavy  implements:  where  had 
they  got  them?  Crash!  There  was  a  panel  half 
driven  out.  The  amazed  soldiers  raised  their 
muskets;  they  could  at  least  fire  into  the  room. 
But  at  this  moment  they  caught  sight  of  Jack? 
and  the  sailors  springing  up  the  back  staircase. 
Another  crash  on  the  door!  O  del!  They  waited 
for  no  more,  but  with  a  yell  turned  their  backs 
and  leaped  down  the  main  staircase,  taking  three 
stairs  at  a  time. 

190 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

"Ahoy  there,  Babbage;  stand  clear!"  shouted 
Jack. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  cried  the  bo'sun  from  within. 

Putting  to  the  lock  the  musket  he  carried, 
Jack  fired.  The  lock  was  burst;  with  a  touch  the 
door  gave  way;  and  a  second  later  the  prisoners 
began  to  pour  out. 

"Steady,  men!"  cried  Jack.  "No  crowding,  or 
we'll  get  jammed  and  be  clapped  under  hatches 
again.  Armed  men  in  front." 

They  followed  Jack  down  the  same  staircase 
by  which  he  had  come.  As  they  passed  the  locked 
door  of  the  guard-room  they  heard  the  impris- 
oned men  making  a  furious  assault  upon  it.  But 
it  was  a  piece  of  good  oak;  they  had  no  firearms 
to  blow  away  the  lock;  and  Jack  knew  that  they 
might  hammer  it  for  an  hour  without  making 
much  impression. 

Down  they  go !  Here  they  are  at  the  kitchen. 
And  there  is  Turley,  a  saucepan  in  one  hand,  a 
huge  dish-cover  in  the  other,  holding  at  bay  the 
fat  cook  and  his  two  assistants,  who  are  vainly 
attempting,  with  ferocious  cries,  to  get  within 

191 


JACK   HARDY 

his  guard.  When  they  see  Jack  enter  the  room, 
and  behind  him  a  swarm  of  seamen,  they  wheel 
round  and  scurry  like  hares  into  the  farther 
apartment,  the  fat  cook  going  last,  squealing. 

"No  danger  there!"  said  Jack.  "There's  no 
time  to  lose,  men.  Now  for  the  back  door." 

He  ran  to  it,  drew  back  the  bolts,  and  throw- 
ing it  wide  dashed  out  into  the  open,  There  was 
a  blinding  flash  close  by;  the  shot  missed;  and 
with  Turley  and  others  hard  on  his  heels  Jack 
dashed  straight  in  the  direction  from  which  the 
shot  had  come.  But  the  sentry  who  had  fired 
was  already  scampering  away.  A  companion 
had  joined  him;  together  they  made  for  the 
wicket  of  the  front  gate;  dashed  through,  and 
tried  to  close  it.  But  Turley  was  just  in  time  to 
slip  his  saucepan  in  and  hold  the  gate  open.  The 
sentries  waited  no  longer.  They  raced  as  fast  as 
their  legs  would  carry  them  toward  the  town. 

To  overtake  them  was  impossible.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  two  companies  of  infantry  would  be 
on  the  track  of  the  escaped  prisoners.  Was  there 
time  to  reach  the  harbor  before  they  came  up? 

192 


A   BREAK   FOR    FREEDOM 

Had  the  shots  already  roused  the  officers  of  the 
vessels  at  anchor  and  caused  them  to  despatch 
men  ashore?  Jack  could  not  wait  even  to  won- 
der. On  he  went,  calling  to  his  men  to  close  up, 
straight  along  the  road  leading  to  the  town.  But 
to  pass  through  the  streets  to  the  harbor  would 
be  fatal.  Within  half  a  mile  of  the  town  he 
halted. 

"You,  Mudge,  and  you,  Folkard,  cut  off  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  port  and  fire  your  muskets. 
Then  run  as  hard  as  you  can  in  our  wake.  Quick, 
men!" 

He  hoped  that  the  firing  in  that  direction 
would  mislead  the  enemy  and  give  the  fugitives 
the  few  minutes'  grace  they  needed  for  the  next 
move  of  his  plan.  When  the  two  men  had  gone 
off  to  the  left,  he  led  the  party  rapidly  to  the 
right,  hoping  to  strike  the  harbor  at  its  eastern 
extremity. 

As  the  fugitives,  keeping  perfect  silence,  stum- 
bled in  the  darkness  over  fields  and  across  ditches 
toward  the  harbor,  they  heard  loud  shouts  to 
their  left,  followed  by  the  roll  of  a  drum. 

193 


JACK   HARDY 

Clearly  the  alarm  had  been  raised,  the  soldiers 
were  turning  out.  All  now  depended  on  whether 
the  direction  of  the  escape  was  discovered  within 
the  next  few  minutes.  If  not,  Jack  thought  that 
he  might  reach  the  harbor  with  his  band  in  time 
to  seize  some  boats  before  they  were  intercepted. 
He  listened  eagerly  for  shots  behind;  they 
seemed  long  in  coming,  and  the  outskirts  of  the 
village  loomed  up  in  the  darkness  ahead  before 
the  expected  reports  at  last  struck  his  ear.  Fer- 
vently he  hoped  that  the  sound  would  draw  the 
soldiers  off  in  that  direction. 

He  wished  he  could  go  faster,  but  many  of  the 
men  were  weak  from  the  effects  of  imprisonment 
and  meager  fare,  and  he  had  to  accommodate  his 
pace  to  the  slowest. 

Making  a  fairly  wide  circuit,  Jack  steered  for 
the  extremity  of  the  harbor,  where  only  a  few 
fishermen's  cottages  intervened  between  him  and 
the  waterside.  Some  fishers  who  had  turned  out 
of  their  dwellings  on  hearing  the  alarm  scurried 
down  the  rutty  road  with  loud  shouts.  The  noise 
was  bound  to  bring  the  soldiers  to  the  spot  with' 

194 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

in  a  few  minutes.  Jack's  heart  was  pumping  at 
a  great  rate,  but  he  did  not  lose  his  coolness  or 
his  nerve.  He  must  do  something  to  check  the 
soldiers,  that  was  plain.  Sending  twenty  men 
to  search  the  shore  for  boats,  he  posted  the  nine 
armed  with  muskets  under  cover  of  the  cottages 
with  orders  to  delay  the  soldiers  at  all  costs.  The 
rest  of  his  men,  some  armed  with  the  spoil  of  the 
kitchen,  others  with  bricks  and  stones  snatched 
up  on  the  way,  he  placed  behind  the  nine  to  sup- 
port them. 

A  minute  or  two — horribly  long  they  seemed 
to  Jack — of  anxious  waiting;  then  the  two  men 
who  had  fired  the  shots  in  the  rear  came  panting 
up,  and  from  the  direction  of  the  harbor  a  mes- 
senger brought  the  good  news  that  six  large  boats 
had  been  found.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  the 
clump-clump  of  heavy  boots  and  sabots  on  the 
road  was  distinctly  heard,  ever  growing  louder. 
If  the  runners  proved  to  be  soldiers  it  would  be 
impossible  to  escape  without  a  fight.  Jack  would 
rather  have  been  allowed  to  embark  in  peace, 
but  if  there  must  be  a  fight — 

195 


JACK   HARDY 

"Well,"  he  whispered  to  Babbage,  "we'll 
show  them  what  English  Jack  Tars  are  made 
of." 

He  at  once  sent  the  unarmed  men  down  to  the 
water  under  guidance  of  the  messenger,  bidding 
them  get  into  the  boats ;  then  with  the  rest  he  pre- 
pared to  fight  a  rear-guard  action. 

The  Frenchmen  came  on  helter-skelter.  Not 
one  of  them  imagined  that  they  had  any  enemy 
more  formidable  than  unarmed  weaklings  to 
deal  with.  Jack  waited  until  they  were  within 
twenty  yards;  even  in  the  dim  starlight  they 
could  be  seen  distinctly  enough.  Then  in  a  voice 
that  rang  clearly  he  gave  the  word  "Fire!"  The 
eleven  rifles  flashed;  there  were  cries  from  the 
advancing  Frenchmen;  some  of  them,  at  any 
rate,  must  have  been  hit  at  this  point-blank 
range.  The  head  of  the  column  was  in  confu- 
sion; men  turned  this  way  and  that;  they  were 
apparently  without  leadership. 

While  they  halted  and  wavered  another  word 
of  command  was  heard  above  their  cries  and  the 
sound  of  shuffling  feet:  "Charge!"  The  sailors 

196 


responded  with  a  cheer;  some  thirty  strong,  they 
dashed  forward  as  one  man ;  and  in  a  few  seconds 
the  enemy  were  in  full  flight,  struck  by  one  of 
those  sudden  panics  to  which  even  the  best  troops 
are  liable  in  night  operations. 

Jack  also  had  his  moment  of  alarm.  Knowing 
the  thoughtless  impetuosity  of  the  British  sailor, 
he  feared  lest,  with  the  enemy  on  the  run,  his 
men  should  forget  everything  else  in  the  excite- 
ment of  pursuit.  But  he  had  them  soon  in  hand 
again. 

"Now  to  the  boats!"  he  said,  "and  as  quickly 
as  you  can." 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  rinding  them.  One  of 
the  sloops  had  already  opened  fire  upon  them; 
and  the  sound  of  oars  in  that  direction  showed 
that  a  boat,  perhaps  more  than  one,  had  been 
lowered,  no  doubt  to  pull  in  to  the  assistance  of 
the  soldiers.  It  was  too  dark  for  the  fire  of  the 
sloop  to  be  effective ;  Jack  heard  one  or  two  shots 
strike  the  harbor  wall. 

Here  were  the  boats,  a  few  yards  from  the 
beach. 

197. 


JACK   HARDY 

"Tumble  in,  men,"  said  Jack. 

In  a  few  seconds  all  were  aboard.  Already 
Jack  in  the  foremost  boat  was  steering  for  a  black 
shape  almost  exactly  ahead,  which  he  believed 
to  be  the  Fury.  Scarcely  was  his  craft  well  under 
way  before  he  heard  oars  in  that  direction ;  the 
cutter  also,  it  appeared,  was  sending  a  boat. 

"So  much  the  better!"  thought  Jack.  "There'll 
be  fewer  men  on  deck  to  repel  boarders." 

In  less  than  a  minute  he  saw  the  cutter's  boat 
ahead ;  it  was  turning,  as  if  to  regain  the  vessel — 
he  wondered  why. 

"Give  way,  men!"  he  cried,  and  from  the  boat 
behind  came  Babbage's  voice  urging  his  crew: 
"Pull,  shipmates;  pull,  my  hearties;  Mr.  Hardy 
ain't  a-goin'  to  do  it  all  by  his  lone  self!"  And 
Jack  heard  Turley,  somewhere  in  his  own  boat, 
mutter:  "Bust  yourself,  old  Artichokes,  but 
we'll  be  there  first!" 

It  was  a  race  between  them.  The  other  boats 
were  some  distance  astern,  for  two,  being  with- 
out oars,  were  being  towed  by  the  remaining 
two.  In  the  two  foremost  boats  the  men  were 

198 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

straining  every  nerve.  They  knew  that  their 
lives  depended  on  success,  and  scarcely  needed 
the  encouraging  words  of  Jack  and  the  old 
bo'sun.  They  gained  on  the  Frenchman;  the 
three  boats  dashed  almost  together  under  the  cut- 
ter's counter;  then  there  was  a  tussle.  Rising  in 
the  boats  the  crews  shouted  and  cheered  and  be- 
labored their  opponents,  Jack's  men  plying  roll- 
ing-pins, gridirons,  soup-ladles,  frying-pans, 
shovels,  candlesticks,  with  a  hearty  vigor  that 
made  them  more  formidable  weapons  than  the 
Frenchmen's  cutlasses.  In  half  a  minute  the 
Frenchmen,  outnumbered  and  outfought,  were 
hurled  neck  and  crop  out  of  their  boats,  and  the 
English  sailors  were  swarming  up  the  side  of  the 
cutter.  In  the  short  fight  the  cutter's  crew  had 
been  unable  to  help  their  comrades;  it  was  such 
a  rough  and  tumble  that  they  would  as  likely 
have  hit  a  friend  as  a  foe.  But  they  gathered  for 
a  desperate  resistance  when  the  Englishmen 
poured  on  to  the  deck.  Jack  and  his  party 
boarded  aft;  Babbage's  men  forward;  but  nei- 
ther made  easy  progress,  for  the  Frenchmen 

199 


JACK  HARDY 

fought  like  tigers,  rallying  twice  after  momen- 
tary set-backs,  and  taking  advantage  of  their 
superior  numbers  to  press  forward  in  the  at- 
tempts to  drive  the  boarders  into  the  sea.  The 
rnelee  was  at  its  fiercest  when  the  arrival  of  the 
other  boats  turned  the  scale.  Cheering  British 
tars  beset  the  gallant  Frenchmen  on  all  sides; 
man  after  man  of  the  defenders  fell,  and  in  two 
minutes  from  the  time  when  the  last  boat's  crew 
boarded,  the  cutter  was  once  more  in  English 
hands. 

"Secure  the  Frenchmen!"  shouted  Jack,  when 
the  enemy  surrendered  and  cried  for  quarter. 
He  himself  rushed  aft  and  cut  the  cable;  and 
while  Turley  and  some  others  were  collecting 
the  Frenchmen's  weapons  and  escorting  their 
prisoners  below,  a  score  of  willing  hands  had 
run  up  the  mainsail,  jib  and  foresail.  Grazing 
the  side  of  the  fishing  smack  to  leeward  as  she 
gathered  way,  the  Fury  moved  out  to  sea.  As 
she  emerged  from  the  shelter  of  the  brig  a  round 
shot  from  one  of  the  sloops  struck  her  full  amid- 

200 


A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM 

ships,  and  the  other  sloop  was  seen  making  sail 
in  pursuit. 

"Any  damage  done?"  sang  out  Jack. 

"Not  a  farden's  worth,  sir,"  replied  Turley. 
"Well  above  water-line." 

"Here's  another!  Look  out!"  shouted  Bab- 
bage. 

But  the  second  shot  whizzed  harmlessly  by; 
then  the  sloops  and  other  vessels  faded  from 
sight;  and  the  buoyant  little  cutter  began  to 
courtesy  to  the  waves  of  the  Channel,  showing 
white-crested  in  the  gloom. 


201 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  CAPTURE  OF  THE  GLORIEUSE 

For  some  time  Jack  was  too  busy  in  navigating 
the  vessel,  too  anxiously  looking  out  for  pursu- 
ers, to  take  stock  of  the  situation  on  board  the 
Fury.  But  as  soon  as  he  felt  that  he  was  fairly 
safe,  he  went  round  the  cutter  to  inquire.  One  of 
his  men  and  five  Frenchmen  had  been  killed  in 
the  boarding  operations.  These  were  at  once 
committed  to  the  deep,  for  with  a  crew  of  nearly 
seventy,  and  twenty  prisoners,  there  was  already 
too  little  room  on  board.  Many  had  been 
wounded  on  both  sides;  and  Jack  found  that  his 
men  had  the  more  serious,  though  not  the  most 
numerous,  wounds;  for  while  they  had  been 
pinked  and  slashed  with  cutlasses,  the  French- 
men had  received  only  bad  bruises  from  the  un- 
usual weapons  wielded  by  their  opponents.  Sev- 
eral of  the  men  who  had  served  in  the  sick  bay 
on  English  warships  had  already  done  their  best 

202 


— it  was  but  little  in  those  days  of  ignorance  and 
unskilful  surgery — to  attend  to  the  wounded. 

The  French  crew  had  apparently  consisted  of 
about  forty  men ;  arms  for  that  number  were  dis- 
covered. Among  the  prisoners  were  the  captain 
and  lieutenant,  whom  Jack  at  once  sought  out 
and  invited  to  share  the  cabin  with  himself. 
They  were  very  crestfallen  at  their  defeat;  but 
when  Jack,  mustering  his  best  French  (which 
was  not  very  good),  made  his  best  bow  (which 
was  charming) ,  and  said — "Je  vous  restore,  Mes- 
sieurs, vos  epees,  pour  vous — vous — vous — 
(Hang  it!  What's  the  French  for  'show'?)  — 
pour  vous  displayer  mon  admiration  de  votre 
brave — .(Can't  think  of  the  French  for  'fight.') 
— votre  courage  dans  la  bataille" — when  Jack 
came  to  the  end  of  this  halting  speech  and  smiled 
very  unaffectedly,  the  Frenchmen  returned  his 
smile  and  his  bow,  and  the  captain,  as  he  received 
his  sword,  said  fervently: 

"Monsieur,  je  vous  rends  grace  de  votre  noble 
conduite,  qui  est  digne,  assurement,  d'un  honnete 
homme" 

203 


JACK  HARDY 

Jack  bowed  and  smiled  again,  wondering 
what  he  had  done  that  was  specially  "honest." 
Like  many  another  Jack  since  then,  he  was  too 
apt  to  jump  to  conclusions. 

He  had  never  navigated  the  Channel,  but  he 
set  the  course  of  the  cutter  by  the  compass,  in- 
tending to  run  as  straight  as  he  could  for  Wyn- 
port.  Toward  daybreak  the  wind  shifted  to  the 
southeast  and  then  to  the  southwest,  and  to  Jack's 
disappointment  dropped  to  a  light  breeze 
scarcely  strong  enough  to  disperse  the  thin  fog 
that  lay  over  the  sea.  There  seemed  little  hope 
of  a  quick  passage  to  the  English  coast.  Jack 
was  speculating  on  his  chances  of  getting  clear 
of  the  French  shore  when  he  was  startled  by  the 
cry: 

"Sail  on  the  weather-bow,  sir." 

Diving  into  the  cabin,  he  snatched  up  a  spy- 
glass and  eagerly  scanned  the  approaching  ves- 
sel, which  was  coming  up  Channel,  bringing  a 
strong  breeze  with  her.  She  was  showing  no 
colors,  but  there  was  something  about  her  cut 
that  made  him  feel  a  little  uncomfortable.  Turn- 

204 


CAPTURE   OF   THE    GLORIEUSE 

ing  to  Babbage,  who  stood  by,  he  handed  him 
the  spy-glass,  saying: 

"French?" 

"French  she  be,  sir,  leastways  furrin,  and  a 
spanking  brig." 

Jack  looked  a  little  blue. 

It  was  difficult  to  estimate  distances  in  the 
haze,  but  the  stranger  could  scarcely  be  more 
than  a  mile  away.  Every  now  and  again  a  gust  of 
wind  lifted  the  fog,  and  if  Jack  attempted  to  put 
about  the  movement  would  almost  certainly  be 
seen.  Even  if  he  could  outsail  the  approaching 
vessel  before  the  wind,  which  was  at  least  doubt- 
ful, her  bow-chasers  would  badly  cripple  him 
before  he  could  run  out  of  range. 

"What  chance  have  we  of  escaping,  if  she  is 
French?"  he  said  to  Babbage,  who  was  standing 
by  his  side. 

"Not  a  brass  farden's  worth,  sir.  She  carries 
thirty  guns  at  the  least;  and  if  there  is  a  man 
aboard  that  can  shoot,  she  can  hull  us  easy  as 
winking  without  changing  her  course." 

"That's  bad,  then." 

205 


JACK    HARDY 

"And  worse  to  foller,  sir,  as  brother  Sol  used 
to  say." 

Jack  mentally  anathematized  brother  Sol,  who 
must  have  been  a  very  Job's  comforter.  The  out- 
look was  black  enough.  Visions  of  a  French 
prison  again  rose  before  him — if  indeed  prison 
should  be  his  lot,  for  the  French,  if  they  captured 
him,  might  deal  summarily  with  him  in  revenge 
for  the  men  they  had  lost. 

Babbage  sat  down  on  the  deck  and  began  to 
sharpen  his  cutlass. 

"A  nice  little  bit  of  arm-work  coming,  sir," 
he  said  cheerfully.  "In  course  we'll  fight  'em?" 

Jack  shook  his  head. 

"That's  the  last  thing  I  should  think  of  doing 
— at  present." 

"Well,  sir,  she's  coming  on  at  a  spanking  rate, 
and  if  we're  going  to  run,  the  sooner  the  better — 
meaning  no  offense,  sir." 

"We  must  either  keep  her  closer  to  the  wind, 
and  hope  to  pass  without  notice,  or  put  the  helm 
up  and  run  for  it.  We'd  have  a  bare  chance  of 
outsailing  her  then." 

206 


"Yes,  sir,  and  she'd  give  us  her  broadside  fust 
and  foller  it  up  with  her  stern-chasers.  She'd 
blow  us  out  of  the  water,  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs, 
when  they  bean't  pickles." 

Jack  stood  for  a  few  moments,  gloomily  pon- 
dering this  desperate  case.  All  at  once  his  face 
brightened. 

"I  say,  Babbage,  we'll  fight  her." 

"And  God  save  the  king,  sir,"  replied  the 
veteran,  lifting  his  hat,  and  then  vigorously 
whetting  his  blade. 

The  course  which  had  suggested  itself  to  Jack 
was  one  that  he  would  scarcely  have  imagined 
in  cold  blood;  but  in  the  present  crisis  it  seemed 
to  him  preferable  to  either  of  the  two  he  had 
before  mentioned.  He  had  seventy  men  on 
board,  thirty  more  than  the  cutter  would  have 
carried  in  the  ordinary  way.  Most  of  them  were 
well  armed;  and,  well  as  British  seamen  always 
fought,  they  could  be  trusted  in  the  present  cir- 
cumstances to  outdo  themselves,  for  defeat  meant 
utter  destruction.  Could  he  lull  the  Frenchmen's 
suspicions  for  a  few  minutes?  If  he  could! — 

207 


JACK   HARDY 

well,  the  chance  of  success  was  small,  but  the 
smallest  was  better  than  none  at  all. 

"Yes,  by  George!  I'll  do  it!"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

And  he  lost  no  time.  He  was  astonished  at 
the  quickness  with  which  his  mind  worked  in 
forming  his  plan.  Orders  came  to  his  lips  in 
short,  sharp  sentences,  and,  thanks  to  the  readi- 
ness of  old  Babbage  and  the  fine  discipline  of 
the  seamen,  they  were  carried  out  as  promptly 
as  given. 

A  score  of  men  went  below,  and  in  a  few  sec- 
onds returned  to  the  deck,  looking  like  French- 
men. They  had  stripped  the  outer  garments 
from  the  prisoners.  Their  weapons  were  com- 
pletely concealed.  Five  men  with  loaded  mus- 
kets stood  guard  over  the  real  Frenchmen,  four 
held  themselves  ready  to  board,  with  boat  an- 
chors as  grapnels.  The  rest  of  the  men,  equipped 
with  all  the  available  armament,  concealed 
themselves  below,  out  of  sight  from  the  ap- 
proaching vessel,  but  ready  for  action  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice. 

208 


CAPTURE   OF  THE   GLORIEUSE 

These  preparations  were  still  being  made 
when  the  French  flag  was  run  up  on  the  brig. 
In  response  Jack  hoisted  the  French  colors  found 
on  board,  and,  bringing  the  cutter  a  point  or  two 
closer  into  the  wind,  made  as  if  to  hail  the  larger 
vessel.  When  only  half  a  cable's  length  sepa- 
rated them  he  shouted: 

"Ho!  Hola!" 

There  was  an  answering  shout  from  the  brig. 
So  far,  at  any  rate,  no  suspicion  had  been 
aroused.  Jack  felt  himself  thrill  with  excitement 
and  suspense;  everything  depended  on  the  result 
of  the  next  move.  Turley  was  at  the  helm,  his 
lips  set,  his  eyes  never  leaving  the  midshipman's 
face.  Two  or  three  seconds  after  the  hail  Jack 
gave  the  word;  Turley  put  the  helm  hard  up, 
and  the  cutter,  paying  off  from  the  wind,  ran 
alongside  the  brig  to  the  manifest  amazement 
of  the  Frenchmen,  the  captain  swearing  with 
anger  at  what  he  supposed  was  rashness  or 
utter  stupidity  on  the  part  of  the  cutter's  com- 
mander. 

Barely  two  yards  now  separated  the  vessels, 
209 


the  side  of  the  brig  seeming  to  tower  over  the 
cutter.  At  a  sign  from  Jack  the  men  with  the 
grapnels  leaped  up,  and  cast  them  in  at  the  open 
ports  of  the  brig.  The  ropes  attached  to  them 
were  instantly  secured  to  stanchions  on  the  cut- 
ter's deck,  and  with  a  slight  movement  of  the 
tiller  Turley  brought  the  two  hulls  together. 

Even  before  they  touched,  twenty  men  from 
the  Fury's  deck  were  clambering  up  the  main 
chains  of  the  brig,  and  forty  more  were  swarm- 
ing from  below  in  support.  By  this  time  the 
French  captain  had  realized  that  the  commander 
of  the  cutter  was  neither  stupid  nor  rash,  but  a 
dare-devil  of  an  Englishman.  Those  were  Eng- 
lishmen's cries  that  he  heard,  mingling  with  the 
uproar  made  by  his  own  men.  Everything  was 
in  confusion.  Only  the  marines  were  armed. 
What  French  captain  would  have  dreamed  of 
meeting  a  little  English  cutter  so  near  his  own 
coast?  What  audacity,  what  unjustifiable  im- 
pertinence, for  so  small  a  vessel  to  engage  a 
thirty-two  gun  brig,  with  a  complement  of  prob- 
ably two  hundred  men!  It  was  ridiculous, 

210 


CAPTURE   OF   THE    GLORIEUSE 

thought  the  captain,  even  as  he  gathered  his  men 
for  the  fight. 

He  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  what  then? 
Snatching  up  any  weapons  that  came  handy,  the 
Frenchmen  came  pouring  out  of  the  hatchways 
and  from  all  quarters  of  the  deck,  and,  forming 
a  little  knot,  endeavored  to  stem  the  rush  of  the 
boarders.  They  fought,  as  Frenchmen  always 
fight,  gallantly  and  with  fierce  courage;  but  a 
boarding  party  of  English  seamen  is  not  easily 
checked. 

Jack  at  the  head  of  a  dozen  men  had  already 
driven  a  group  of  the  enemy  from  the  fore  deck 
into  the  foc's'le  when,  glancing  aft,  he  saw  that 
Babbage  and  a  small  band  were  in  desperate 
straits.  Sword  in  one  hand,  pistol  in  the  other, 
the  French  captain  was  pressing  them  hard  at  the 
head  of  twenty  well-armed  marines  and  three  of 
his  officers.  The  remainder  of  Jack's  party  had 
scattered  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy  on  the  lower 
deck;  and  a  hand-to-hand  fight  was  raging  near 
the  armory,  from  which  the  watch  below  were 
hastily  equipping  themselves.  It  was  impossible 

211 


JACK  HARDY 

for  Jack  to  collect  his  men;  yet  if  Babbage  and 
his  gallant  band  were  overcome  all  would  be 
over. 

uYou  four,  watch  the  foc's'le!"  he  shouted. 
"Come  on,  you  others!  Babbage  ahoy!" 

With  a  shout  he  dashed  aft,  a  dozen  men  bel- 
lowing as  they  sprang  after  him.  Flash  went  a 
pistol ;  the  clashing  of  cutlasses  mingled  with  the 
various  cries  of  the  men;  and  Jack,  cleaving  his 
way  through  the  press  toward  the  old  bo'sun's 
side,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  French 
captain.  He  had  but  just  time  to  parry  a  shrewd 
thrust  of  the  Frenchman's  sword  when  a  blow 
from  a  French  sailor's  pike,  which  must  have 
killed  him  outright  had  it  not  been  partly  di- 
verted by  Babbage,  fell  obliquely  upon  his  head 
with  such  force  that  he  stumbled,  staggered,  and 
dropped  senseless  to  the  deck.  His  last  conscious 
moment  was  filled  with  the  din  of  fighting  and 
the  roar  of  his  men. 

"Mr.  Babbage!" 

"Wot?" 

212 


CAPTURE   OF   THE    GLORIEUSE 

"I  axe  your  pardon,  true." 

"Wot  for?" 

"For  calling  of  you  Artichokes,  Sparrow- 
grass,  Turnip-tops,  and  Cabbage.  Wi'  young 
Mr.  Hardy  a-lying  here  with  all  his  senses 
knocked  out  of  him,  I  couldn't  abear  to  think  as 
how  I  hurt  your  feelings,  Mr.  Babbage.  I  axe 
your  pardon." 

"Granted,  Turley,  granted,  and  more  to  fol- 
ler,"  said  Babbage,  holding  out  a  horny  hand, 
which  Turley  grasped  in  one  equally  hard.  Each 
man  looked  at  the  other,  so  long  that  they  did 
not  perceive  that  Jack's  eyes  were  open,  and  that 
he  was  smiling. 

"Oh,  you  solemn  old  donkeys !"  he  exclaimed. 
"You  know  you've  been  friends  at  heart  all 
along." 

They  looked  sheepish,  like  boys  detected  in 
something  unboyish. 

"Ah,  sir,"  said  Babbage,  "brother  Sol  used  to 
say  'tis  not  actions  wot  matter,  'tis  feelings." 

"Brother  Sol  was  wrong,  then.  I  shouldn't  be 
feeling  so  dizzy  but  for  the  action  of  some 

213 


JACK   HARDY 

Frenchman  who  got  a  cut  at  me.  What's  hap- 
pened, Babbage?" 

"The  ship's  ourn,  sir,  and  we're  making  for 
Portsmouth." 

"Hurray!  Tell  me  about  it!" 

"Well,  sir,  arter  you  was  down  we  got  our 
monkeys  up.  'Twas  all  over  in  half  a  minute. 
Turley  and  Mudge  and  a  dozen  more  went  at 
'em  'longside  o'  me;  we  drove  'em  back;  Mudge 
tumbled  the  captain  over,  and  the  rest  hauled 
down  their  colors  and  cried  for  quarter.  Then 
me  and  some  more  jumped  down  the  gangway 
and  cleared  the  lower  deck,  where  some  moun- 
seers  was  scrambling  round  the  arm-chest.  Bless 
you!  it  didn't  last  long.  They  did  their  best,  to 
be  sure,  but  we  did  better;  and  the  end  of  it  was 
they  all  flung  down  their  pikes  and  cutlasses  and 
gave  in.  Then  we  brought  you  down  here  into 
the  captain's  cabin;  I  put  the  ship  about,  and 
cast  off  the  Fury  with  ten  men  in  her;  she's  fol- 
lowing in  our  wake  now,  sir." 

"Capital!  And  what  of  the  prisoners?" 

"Tied  up,  sir.  There's  a  hundred  and  forty, 
214 


CAPTURE   OF   THE    GLORIEUSE 

sir,  all  told,  and  being  such  a  terrible  lot  more 
than  us  I  couldn't  leave  'em  loose.  They're  sit- 
ting on  the  lower  deck,  side  by  side,  twenty  of 
them  slung  on  to  one  rope,  and  for  every  twenty 
there's  a  man  with  a  musket.  They  don't  under- 
stand plain  English,  sir,  but  they  understand  a 
loaded  musket,  and  every  man  of  'em  knows  that 
if  he  tries  any  tricks  'tis  good-by." 

"Well,  I'm  only  sorry  I  was  bowled  over. 
You've  done  splendidly.  How  long  have  I  been 
here?" 

"Somewheres  about  half  an  hour,  sir.  We 
couldn't  do  much  for  you,  not  having  no  surgeon 
aboard ;  but  we  tied  up  your  head  as  well  as  we 
could." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.  Just  a  little  dizzy.  Help 
me  on  deck;  the  fresh  air  will  do  me  good." 

He  had  lost  a  good  deal  of  blood,  and  could 
scarcely  have  reached  the  deck  unassisted.  The 
Englishmen  gave  a  cheer  when  they  saw  their 
young  officer — a  somewhat  muffled  cheer,  for 
their  mouths  were  full  of  the  food  prepared  for 
the  Frenchmen's  breakfast.  It  was  so  long  since 


JACK   HARDY 

they  had  had  a  square  meal  that  they  were 
making  the  most  of  their  opportunity,  and  the 
prisoners  sat  glum  and  hungry,  watching  the 
disappearance  of  the  soup  intended  for  them- 
selves. 

"Find  the  cook  and  cast  him  loose,"  said  Jack. 
"He  can  get  something  ready  for  them.  Let  'em 
eat,  forty  at  a  time.  Where's  the  captain?" 

"Getting  over  his  temper  for'ard,  sir." 

Jack  found  the  captain,  and  learned  from  him 
that  the  vessel,  named  the  Glorieuse,  had  been 
cruising  off  Ushant,  and  three  days  before  had 
captured  an  English  merchantman,  which  she 
had  sent  to  Brest  with  a  prize  crew.  The  Glori- 
euse was  bound  for  Boulogne,  and  the  Fury  had 
been  taken  for  a  French  despatch-boat  bringing 
orders. 

By  midday  the  Glorieuse  came  within  sight  of 
Selsey  Bill,  and  beating  up  against  a  westerly 
breeze  made  a  slow  passage  to  Spithead.  It  was 
almost  dark  before  she  ran  into  Portsmouth  Har- 
bor. Her  signals  had  already  informed  the  port 
officers  that  she  was  a  prize,  and  she  had  hardly 

216 


CAPTURE   OF   THE    GLORIEUSE 

hove-to  when  a  boat  came  alongside  to  make  in- 
quiries. 

"I'll  have  to  go  and  see  the  admiral  and  re- 
port," said  Jack  to  Babbage.  "Probably  I  shall 
not  be  back  to-night.  We'll  see  about  the  prison- 
ers in  the  morning." 


217 


CHAPTER  XIII 

OFF  LUSCOMBE 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  voyage  Jack  had 
devoted  a  good  deal  of  thought  to  his  future 
course  of  action.  To  report  to  the  admiral  would 
be  his  first  duty;  when  that  was  done  he  wished 
to  wipe  oft  a  personal  score.  He  had  been 
shipped  off  to  France  by  the  smugglers  of  Lus- 
combe;  they  had  unquestionably  been  assisted  by 
Monsieur  de  Fronsac;  and,  remembering  the 
name  Goujon  mentioned  by  the  Frenchman,  he 
felt  pretty  sure  that  the  boat  in  which  he  had 
been  conveyed  from  the  shore  belonged  to  the 
sufferer  from  the  flutters,  Mr.  Nathaniel  Gud- 
geon. It  was  not  in  human  nature  that  he  should 
let  slip  his  chance  of  having  his  tit  for  tat. 

And  apart  from  his  personal  feelings,  there 
were  other  reasons  for  this  determination.  To 
put  down  smuggling  was  part  of  his  duty  as  a 
king's  officer;  it  was  no  less  his  duty  to  suspect 

218 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

a  Frenchman  whom  he  found  in  league  with 
them.  There  was  something  mysterious  in  their 
connection  with  De  Fronsac,  and  something  very 
unpleasant  in  the  idea  of  De  Fronsac's  sailing 
under  false  colors  in  the  house  of  Squire  Basta- 
ble.  It  seemed  to  Jack  that  he  would  only  be 
fulfilling  a  public  duty,  as  well  as  getting  even 
with  private  enemies,  if  he  probed  the  mystery 
and  laid  the  offenders  by  the  heels. 

But  to  do  this  it  was  very  necessary  that  his 
return  to  England  should  be  kept  secret.  The 
Luscombe  smugglers  would,  no  doubt,  have 
friends  spying  for  them  in  neighboring  ports, 
and  if  he  were  seen  they  would  be  on  their 
guard,  and  De  Fronsac  would  have  time  to  get 
away.  He  was  glad,  therefore,  that  it  was  dark 
when  the  Glorieuse  came  to  her  anchorage.  It 
increased  his  chances  of  escaping  notice  in  pre- 
paring to  take  the  smugglers  by  surprise. 

Smartening  himself  up  as  well  as  he  could, 
and  removing  as  far  as  possible  the  traces  of  his 
wound,  he  went  ashore  and  made  his  way  to  Ad- 
miral Horniman's  lodgings  in  the  Hard.  He 

219 


JACK   HARDY 

was  admitted  at  once  on  explaining  his  errand, 
and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  big  man 
with  rugged,  weather-beaten  face,  fierce  white 
eyebrows,  and  a  wooden  arm.  The  admiral  was 
alone,  examining  a  chart  with  the  aid  of  a  tum- 
bler of  toddy  and  a  long  pipe. 

"Mr.  Midshipman  Hardy,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
vant. 

"Come  in  and  shut  that  door,"  roared  the  ad- 
miral in  a  quarter-deck  bellow.  "Dash  my  but- 
tons! Do  you  want  me  to  catch  my  death  of 
cold!  Now  what's  this?" 

"Come  to  report  a  prize,  sir." 

The  admiral  looked  Jack  up  and  down. 

"You  have  come  to  report  a  prize,  have  you, 
sir?  And  what's  your  superior  officer  about 
when  he  sends  a  youngster  like  you?" 

"He's  in  a  French  prison,  sir.   I — " 

"The  deuce  he  is!  How  do  you  come  to  be 
in  charge  of  a  prize,  eh?  What's  your  vessel?" 

"The  Glorieuse,  sirl" 

"Don't  trifle,  sir!  I  didn't  ask  you  for  French 
crack-jaw.  Your  own  vessel,  sir?" 

220 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

"The  Fury,  sir,"  Jack  responded. 

"What!  Are  there  two  Furies/'  The  only 
Fury  I  know  was  the  cutter  that  that  fool  Blake 
allowed  to  be  captured.  Didn't  they  tell  me  she 
was  carried  into  Boulogne?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  we  retook  her." 

"By  George!  I'm  glad  of  it;  a  smart  cutter, 
the  fastest  on  the  station.  And  you  took  a  craft 
called  the  Glorieuse  too,  did  you?  What's  your 
vessel,  and  who's  your  captain,  and  why  isn't  he 
here?" 

"If  you  please,  sir — " 

"Answer  my  question,  sir — a  plain  question 
and  a  plain  answer." 

"My  vessel's  the  Fury,  sir,"  replied  Jack,  "and 
it  was  the  Fury  captured  the  Glorieuse,  a  thirty- 
gun  brig." 

"What!  that  cockle-shell  take  a  thirty-gun 
brig?" 

"Yes,  sir,  we  took  her  by  surprise,  and — " 

"And  who  retook  the  Fury?" 

"Some  threescore  English  seamen,  sir;  I  was 
in  command,  and — " 

221 


JACK   HARDY 

"You  in  command!  Bless  my  soul,  what  are 
you  talking  about?  What's  your  name,  sir?" 

"Jack  Hardy,  sir." 

"Why,  why,  didn't  Lieutenant  Blake  report 
you  as  missing?  Haven't  I  got  his  report — some- 
where, hang  me  if  I  know  where.  Where's  Lieu- 
tenant Blake?  Why  didn't  he  come  and  report 
all  this  himself?" 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  he's  a  prisoner  in  France, 
sir.  He  was  taken  inland,  and — " 

"Am  I  standing  on  my  head  or  on  my  feet?" 
cried  the  peppery  admiral.  "What's  all  this 
beating  about  the  bush?  Explain  yourself,  sir!" 

"Why  don't  you  give  me  a  chance?"  thought 
Jack;  but  Admiral  Horniman's  impetuous  man- 
ner was  well  known  on  the  Portsmouth  station ; 
no  finer  sailor  ever  served  his  Majesty;  and  those 
who  knew  him  knew  what  a  sterling  character 
underlay  his  rough  exterior.  He  raised  his  glass 
now  and  emptied  it  at  a  draft;  and  Jack  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  action  to  begin  his  story,  using 
as  few  words  as  possible,  and  hurrying  on  when 
he  saw  the  admiral  preparing  to  interrupt. 

222 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  he  reached  the  end 
without  misadventure. 

"Bless  my  soul !  And  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr. 
Hardy,  that  you  captured  the  Glorleuse  your- 
self?" 

"No,  sir;  I  was  bowled  over;  but  the  men 
fought  splendidly,  and  Ben  Babbage — " 

"Turnip-tops!  I  know  him!  Brother  Sol  on 
the  brain!  but  a  good  seaman.  Well,  Mr.  Hardy, 
you'll  write  all  that  down — plain,  mind  you,  so 
that  I  can  read  it,  no  finicking  spidery  scrawl 
for  me,  egad!  Now  run  off  and  get  a  sawbones 
to  look  at  that  wound  of  yours,  and  take  a  few 
days'  leave  ashore.  The  sooner  you're  fit  for  duty 
the  better.  We'll  take  charge  of  your  prize." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  But  about  the  leave — if  you 
don't  mind,  I'd  rather  not  take  it  at  present." 

"What  in  thunder  do  you  want  to  be  at  then?" 

"You  know  what  happened  at  Luscombe,  sir 
— at  Congleton's  Folly?" 

"Yes — no;  hang  me!  I  remember  Blake  re- 
ported something.  He  broke  into  a  tower,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  and  found  nothing — 

223 


JACK   HARDY 

wasn't  that  it? — everything  gone,  lock,  stock, 
and  barrel." 

"Yes,  sir.  I  want  to  find  out  what  is  going  on 
in  Luscombe  now.  I  can't  do  it  if  the  smugglers 
learn  that  I've  come  back.  Of  course  they're 
bound  to  know  that  the  Fury  has  been  retaken 
and  the  Glorieuse  brought  in  a  prize;  but  if  my 
name's  kept  out  of  it  they  won't  be  on  their 
guard;  and  if  you  would  allow  me  a  few  days' 
absence,  I'd — " 

"So  you  shall,  by  the  Lord  Harry  I"  cried  the 
admiral,  without  waiting  to  hear  what.  "And 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  keep  the  Glorieuse 
and  the  Fury  in  quarantine.  Not  a  man  from 
either  of  'em  shall  come  ashore  till  you've  re- 
ported to  me.  They'd  blab  if  they  did.  And 
there's  blabbing  enough.  Egad !  Several  of  our 
merchantmen  have  been  scooped  up  lately,  and 
I'll  keel-haul  the  villain  who  betrays  'em  to  the 
French  if  I  catch  him.  But  what  about  your 
wound,  eh?  Won't  that  be  troublesome?" 

" 'Tis  just  a  flesh  wound,  sir,"  replied  Jack; 
"I  shall  be  all  right  in  a  couple  of  days.  There's 

224 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

just  one  thing ;  may  I  have  the  Fury  if  I  find  I 
can  use  her?" 

"Certainly,  certainly,  when  you  like;  in  fact, 
Blake  being  absent,  you'll  be  in  command  till 
my  lords  make  another  appointment." 

Jack  took  his  leave,  very  well  pleased  with 
the  result  of  the  interview.  He  returned  to  the 
Glorieuse,  waited  until  a  lieutenant  was  sent  by 
the  admiral  to  take  charge  of  her,  and  then,  with 
twenty-five  men,  including  Babbage  and  Turley, 
and  stores  hastily  provided  from  the  brig,  he 
sailed  out  of  the  harbor  in  the  Fury.  The  ad- 
miral, he  suspected,  would  be  somewhat  amazed 
when  he  learned  of  the  sudden  departure;  but, 
having  permission,  Jack  had  resolved  on  his  way 
back  to  set  off  at  once  on  his  quest.  The  sooner 
the  Fury  was  out  of  sight  the  better;  and  by  sail- 
ing in  the  darkness  she  would  be  most  likely  to 
escape  observation. 

The  wind  was  not  very  favorable.  A  fresh 
breeze  was  blowing  from  the  southwest,  and  it 
was  a  somewhat  tedious  beat  down  Channel  to 
the  point,  abreast  of  Luscombe,  where  he  had 
'  225 


JACK   HARDY 

seen  the  signal  light  from  Congleton's  Folly. 
Had  the  signalers  sufficiently  regained  confi- 
dence, he  wondered,  to  resume  their  midnight 
work? 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Babbage?"  he  asked 
of  the  bo'sun,  who  was  at  the  tiller. 

"Well,  sir,  I  think  of  a  saying  of  brother  Sol's : 
When  the  cat's  away,  the  mice  do  play.'  There 
be  several  cats  in  the  case,  sir.  One,  the  Fury— 
a  good  name  for  cat  or  cutter;  two,  Mr.  Blake; 
three,  you  yourself,  sir;  four,  me  and  Turley, 
for,  having  made  up  our  little  difference,  we  two 
make  one;  I've  got  the  claws,  he've  got  the 
caterwaul.  All  these  cats  being  away,  those  there 
mice  will  have  a  rare  randy.  Why,  that  there 
tower  was  as  empty  as  a  blown  egg-shell  when 
we  drove  in  the  door,  and  climbed  to  the  top; 
and  the  smugglers  will  be  a-hugging  their- 
selves  that  all's  clear,  and  thinking  they  can  go 
on  with  their  work  without  any  danger  of  a  visit 
from  the  preventives.  Lor'  bless  you,  I  were  a 
mouse  myself  once." 

"I  agree  with  you.  'Tis  six  months  since  I  dis- 
226 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

appeared,  and  they'll  have  had  all  that  time  to 
recover  from  any  fright  we  may  have  given 
them.  I  wish  the  wind  would  change.  I  want 
to  get  opposite  the  tower  before  morning." 

"But  you  can't  expect  them  to  do  the  signal- 
ing every  night,  sir.  No  smugglers  ever  I  knew 
or  heard  of  could  be  so  spry  as  that  would  mean. 
Belike  we  shan't  see  the  light  for  a  matter  of 
days — nights,  that  is — or  weeks.  Like  as  not 
they'll  have  their  regular  times  and  seasons,  same 
as  the  herrings." 

"That's  just  why  I'm  so  anxious  to  get  there 
to-night.  'Tis  Wednesday;  'twas  on  a  Wednes- 
day I  first  saw  the  light;  for  all  we  know 
Wednesday  is  their  regular  day." 

"There  may  be  summat  in  that." 

"And  as  we  don't  want  to  be  discovered  I'll 
have  the  tackle  blocks  oiled,  and  tell  the  men  to 
keep  quiet." 

"Specially  Turley,  sir;  but  there,  I  take  that 
back,  sir,  or  he'll  be  a-calling  of  me  Spring 
Onions  again." 

That  night  was  so  dark  that  Jack  had  some 
227 


JACK    HARDY 

doubts  whether  he  could  hit  the  exact  spot  from 
which  the  light  was  visible.  But  he  ventured  to 
creep  in  toward  the  shore  sufficiently  near  to 
descry  the  landmarks,  and  having  at  length  as- 
sured himself  on  that  point,  he  ran  out  again, 
and  cruised  about,  keeping  a  keen  lookout  for 
the  light. 

Two  hours  passed.  It  was  near  midnight,  and 
he  had  almost  given  up  hope  of  success  when, 
to  the  southwest,  he  saw  a  gleam.  At  the  mo- 
ment the  Fury  was  running  up  the  Channel  be- 
fore the  wind.  The  light  evidently  came  from  a 
vessel.  But  it  had  disappeared — no ;  there  it  was 
again;  three  times  the  same  light  was  shown  and 
extinguished. 

"A  signal,  Babbage,"  said  Jack.  "Hope  we 
shan't  be  seen." 

"Better  hold  on  our  course,  sir,  then  beat  out. 
We've  to  get  that  there  craft  atween  us  and  the 
shore." 

Jack  acted  on  the  bo'sun's  suggestion.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  same  signal  was  seen,  this  time 
full  on  the  weather  beam. 

228 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

"They  haven't  answered  her  yet,  sir,"  said 
Babbage,  "and  she  won't  sail  in  much  closer, 
'cos  if  she  do,  she  won't  see  the  light  from  the 
Folly,  if  so  be  'tis  that  she's  looking  for." 

"No.  But  I'm  afraid  she'll  see  us.  She  cer- 
tainly will  if  we  venture  too  close.  Yet  if  we 
make  too  wide  a  sweep  round  her  she  may  do 
whatever  mischief  she's  about  before  we  can 
make  up  on  her.  How  far  is  she  out,  Babbage?" 

"About  five  mile,  I  should  say,  sir." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  risk  it.  We'll  run  out 
beyond  her,  and  hit  the  straight  line  between 
her  and  the  Folly;  we'll  see  then  if  any  signaling 
is  going  on." 

As  soon  as  he  thought  he  had  made  sufficient 
offing,  Jack  brought  the  Fury  closer  to  the  wind 
and  crept  toward  the  line  he  had  mentioned. 
He  no  longer  expected  to  see  any  signal  from  the 
vessel;  the  lantern  would  be  turned  away  from 
him.  But  he  looked  anxiously  toward  the  shore. 
Minute  after  minute  passed,  and  yet  he  saw  noth- 
ing. He  began  to  fear  that  either  he  had  lost  his 
bearings  and  crossed  the  line  while  signaling 

229 


JACK   HARDY 

had  been  going  on  between  the  tower  and  the 
vessel,  or  that  there  was  no  one  at  the  Folly, 
after  all,  and  both  he  and  the  commander  of  the 
other  ship  were  to  be  disappointed. 

Suddenly  a  light  flashed  out  from  shore,  and 
remained  gleaming  brightly  and  steadily.  So 
strong  was  it  that  Jack  felt  not  a  little  anxiety  lest 
it  should  show  up  the  Fury  to  the  vessel  now 
between  her  and  the  land.  But  a  moment's  re- 
flection reassured  him.  At  this  distance  the  light 
could  have  no  illuminating  power;  and  if  he 
could  not  see  the  strange  craft,  it  was  not  very 
likely  that  she  could  see  him. 

He  was  wondering  what  his  next  move  had 
better  be  when  the  light  disappeared.  But  only 
for  a  moment.  Then  it  shone  out  again.  Again  it 
disappeared,  and  then  for  several  seconds  it  al- 
ternately came  and  went,  with  regular  intervals 
of  very  brief  duration  between  the  flashes.  At 
last  there  was  a  longer  interval ;  then  the  regular 
flashes  began  again. 

"Heave  to,  Babbage!"  cried  Jack. 

Springing  down  to  the  cabin,  he  returned  in  a 
23° 


OFF   LUSCOMBE 

few  moments  with  a  slip  of  paper,  a  pencil,  and 
a  shaded  lantern.  By  the  light  of  the  last,  Jack 
made  a  note.  It  would  not  have  conveyed  much 
or  anything  to  an  onlooker.  It  began — 17 — 3 — 

18  —  2 i  -  -  17  — 17  —  3  —  20  —  2 16 

ii 15 — i  —  20  —  3  —  17  —  2  .  .  . 

and  this  succession  of  numbers  and  dashes  grew 
until  it  completely  filled  the  paper.  After  he 
had  written  for  nearly  half  an  hour  the  light  dis- 
appeared altogether;  he  waited  ten  minutes  on 
the  chance  of  the  flashes  being  resumed;  then 
folded  the  paper,  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  or- 
dered the  men  to  crowd  on  all  sail. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  Fury  was  running  before 
the  wind  in  the  direction  Jack  thought  the 
strange  vessel  might  have  taken.  There  was  just 
a  chance  that  he  might  overhaul  and  capture 
her,  for  he  guessed  that  she  was  little  if  anything 
larger  than  the  cutter,  and  in  all  likelihood  the 
same  lugger  which  had  escaped  Lieutenant 
Blake  months  before.  But  though  he  cruised 
about  for  a  couple  of  hours  he  failed  to  find  her. 

"We'll  give  it  up,"  he  said  at  length  to  Bab- 
231 


JACK    HARDY 

bage.  "Now  I  want  a  litle  time  to  work  out  a 
puzzle.  We  mustn't  be  seen  from  Luscombe  or 
the  neighborhood,  so  we'll  beat  down  Channel 
and  make  for  Falmouth.  That's  far  enough 
away  to  be  out  of  reach  of  the  Luscombe  men  or 
their  spies;  and  I'll  eat  my  boots  if  I  haven't  a 
pretty  piece  of  news  to  report  to  Admiral  Horni- 
man  to-morrow." 


232 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  DISCOVERY 

About  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  Fury 
ran  into  Falmouth  Harbor.  Sending  a  boat's 
crew  ashore  to  get  fresh  provisions,  Jack  closeted 
himself  in  the  cabin,  and,  leaning  his  head  on 
his  hands,  pored  over  the  paper  on  which  he  had 
made  the  strange  jottings  the  night  before. 

The  numbers  represented  the  flashes  which 
had  followed  at  intervals  of  a  second;  the  short 
dashes  represented  intervals  of  five  seconds,  the 
long  dashes  intervals  of  twenty  seconds.  What 
was  the  explanation?  It  was  clear  that  the  sig- 
nalers had  a  code ;  the  flashes  in  some  way  spelt 
out  words,  and  Jack  guessed  from  the  long  time 
the  message  had  taken  that  the  words  were  spelt 
in  full.  'How  was  he  to  set  about  finding  out 
what  they  were?  He  had  never  in  his  life  read 
a  cipher,  and  for  some  minutes  he  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  begin. 

233 


JACK    HARDY 

At  last  it  struck  him  that  the  highest  number 
he  had  writen  was  20.  There  were  twenty-six 
letters  in  the  alphabet,  and  some  of  the  letters, 
such  as  Q,  X,  Z,  were  very  seldom  used.  It  was 
not  unlikely  that  in  a  comparatively  short  mes- 
sage they  would  not  be  used  at  all.  Each  letter 
might  be  represented  by  a  number.  He  wrote 
down  the  twenty-six  letters  of  the  alphabet,  plac- 
ing a  number  under  each,  from  i  to  26.  Then 
he  substituted  the  letters  for  the  numbers  on  the 
paper,  thus : 

QCRB AQQCTB P K OATCQB 

This  was  nonsense;  the  fact  that  most  of  the 
letters  were  consonants,  and  the  one  that  most 
frequently  occurred,  Q,  showed  that  he  was  on 
the  wrong  tack.  He  must  try  again.  He  was 
sure  the  long  dashes  represented  the  intervals 
between  the  words;  what  did  the  numbers  stand 
for? 

"I  wonder  what  letter  is  most  often  used?"  he 
thought.  He  wrote  down  the  first  thing  that 

234 


A   DISCOVERY 

occurred  to  him,  the  first  line  of  the  song,  Heart 
of  Oak— 

"Come,  cheer  up,  my  lads,  'tis  to  glory  we  steer." 

"  'Tis  E!"  he  said  to  himself.  "It  occurs  in 
four  words  out  of  ten.  Now  there  are  three 
words  in  the  stuff  that  have  3  and  2  in  them ;  de- 
pend upon  it  either  3  or  2  stands  for  E.  Which 
is  it?  Why,  E  is  the  second  vowel,  and  I  is  the 
third.  Every  word  has  one  or  two  vowels  in  it, 
and  two  of  these  words  have  I  in  them.  Perhaps 
the  five  vowels  are  numbered  i,  2,  3,  4,  5.  Let's 
try  that." 

Recopying  the  alphabet,  he  found  that  on  this 
system  the  message  read — 

PIQE APPISE N H MASIPE 

"It  looks  a  little  more  pronounceable,  but 
hanged  if  I  can  make  any  sense  of  it.  There's  a 
French  look  about  it.  Why,  what  a  dolt  I  am! 
If  it's  Fronsac  who's  signaling  from  the  Folly, 
of  course  the  message  will  be  in  French.  Not 
that  that  helps  matters!"  he  thought  dolefully. 

235 


JACK   HARDY 

"The  French  alphabet's  the  same  as  the  English 
till  you  get  to  W,  and  W  is  number  23,  which 
doesn't  come  in.  Confound  the  thing!" 

It  was  not  until  he  had  pondered  and  puzzled 
for  more  than  an  hour  that  Jack  got  any  fresh 
light.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  some  of  the 
less-used  of  the  letters  might  have  been  dropped. 
After  some  thought,  he  left  out  K,  Q,  and  all  the 
letters  after  V,  and  renumbered  those  that  were 
left.  The  first  result  of  this  change  gave  him  a 
thrill.  He  spelt  out  the  word  "RISE." 

"Now  I'm  on  the  scent!"  he  said  to  himself. 

Next  came  the  word  "ARRIVE,"  then  two 
initials — P,  H,  after  them  the  word  "NA- 
VIRE." 

"I  can't  make  any  sense  of  it  at  present.  Let's 
go  on." 

At  length  the  complete  message  was  de- 
ciphered. It  ran  as  follows — 

RISE  ARRIVE  P  H  NAVIRE  SOUS  CONVOI  E 
FREGATE  PARTENT  VENDREDI  POUR  JA- 
MAIQUE  SANDI  COVE  SAMEDI. 

236 


A   DISCOVERY 

This  was  certainly  clearer;  it  was  decidedly 
French  for  the  most  part;  but  what  did  "RISE," 
"P,"  UH"  and  "E"  mean?  In  a  few  minutes 
Jack  jumped  to  the  meaning  of  H  and  E;  they 
were  to  be  taken  as  numbers,  not  as  letters; 
eleven  merchant  ships  under  convoy  of  two 
frigates  were  leaving  on  Friday  for  Jamaica. 
What  about  "RISE?"  He  remembered  by  and 
by  that  he  had  not  begun  to  write  until  the  sig- 
naling had  been  in  progress  for  some  time. 
"RISE"  was  probably  the  end  of  a  word.  What 
French  word  ended  so?  He  put  other  letters  in 
turn  before  the  perplexing  syllable :  brise,  crise, 
grise,  prise.  PRISE!  Captured!  He  saw  it  at 
last.  The  signaler  was  informing  the  men  of 
the  lugger  that  a  captured  ship  had  arrived;  P 
stood  for  Portsmouth;  and  Jack  had  no  doubt 
that  the  ship  meant  was  the  Glorieuse. 

All  that  was  left  of  the  message  were  the  last 
three  words:  "SANDI  COVE  SAMEDI."  These 
suggested  that  Sandy  Cove  was  to  be  the  scene 
of  a  cargo  run  on  Saturday;  but  Jack  had  never 
heard  of  Sandy  Cove.  For  the  moment  he  gave 

237 


JACK    HARDY 

no  more  thought  to  it;  the  first  part  of  the  mes- 
sage was  of  much  greater  importance  than  any 
smuggling  business. 

The  mystery  was  becoming  clear  at  last.  No 
wonder  the  French  showed  a  disconcerting 
knowledge  of  the  movement  of  English  ships! 
De  Fronsac  was  a  spy!  So  far  from  detesting  the 
Monstair,  he  was  actually  in  the  Monstair's  pay. 
His  business  was  to  supply  the  Monstair  with  in- 
formation. And  his  cunning  had  found  a  means 
to  avoid  the  perils  that  otherwise  might  have 
beset  his  task.  He  had  made  friends  of  the  Lus- 
combe  smugglers,  ostensibly  cast  in  his  lot  with 
them,  so  that  he  might  have  opportunities  of 
signaling  information  to  the  French.  Jack  saw 
through  the  scheme  in  a  flash. 

It  was  Wednesday.  Obviously  there  was  no 
time  to  be  lost  if  the  ships  to  sail  on  Friday  were 
to  be  saved.  The  lugger  would  convey  the  mes- 
sage to  one  of  the  western  ports  of  France,  and 
the  enemy's  cruisers  would  come  out  in  suf- 
ficiently large  force  to  cut  off  the  merchantmen 
and  convoy.  They  could  indeed  afford  to  wait 

238 


A   DISCOVERY 

a  few  days,  for  even  if  the  wind  proved  favora- 
ble for  the  sailing  of  the  English  vessels,  they 
would  make  such  slow  progress  that  a  French 
fleet  in  pursuit  could  overhaul  them  speedily, 
and,  knowing  their  destination,  would  probably 
have  little  difficulty  in  finding  them.  Admiral 
Horniman  must  be  at  once  informed  of  the  dis- 
covery. 

The  men  having  by  this  time  returned  from 
their  errand  on  shore,  Jack  at  once  hoisted  sail 
and  ran  back  to  Portsmouth,  keeping  well  out  in 
the  Channel  off  Luscombe  to  avoid  recognition. 
The  admiral  spent  five  minutes  in  blowing  off  a 
considerable  amount  of  warm  language  when  he 
heard  the  story. 

"The  merchantmen  shall  sail  if  the  wind 
favors,"  he  said,  when  he  had  recovered.  "But 
I'll  increase  their  escort,  and  the  French  shall 
get  an  unpleasant  surprise,  I  promise  'em,  if 
they  act  on  the  information  they've  got.  And 
that  Frenchman  at  Luscombe,  I'll  string  him  up 
to  the  yard-arm.  I'll  stop  his  signaling.  I'll  give 
orders  for  the  tower  to  be  occupied,  and  every 

239 


JACK   HARDY 

one  found  there  put  in  irons  and  clapped  under 
hatches." 

"I  don't  think  you'll  find  any  one  there,  sir," 
Jack  ventured  to  suggest.  "Fronsac's  hand  in 
glove  with  the  smugglers,  that's  the  meaning  of 
'Sandy  Cove  Saturday.'  If  any  of  our  men  are 
seen  making  a  move  in  Luscombe  direction  the 
news  will  be  signaled  along  the  coast.  They'd  all 
clear  out.  Couldn't  we  play  their  own  game, 
sir?" 

"What  d'you  mean?" 

"I  don't  exactly  see  all  the  way,  sir;  but  what 
occurred  to  me  was  that  we  might  do  a  little 
signaling  and  catch  'em  in  their  own  net." 

"A  capital  notion!  By  gad,  we'll  do  it!  We'll 
have  to  let  'em  make  their  run  on  Saturday?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  arrange  to  signal  from  the  tower 
next  Wednesday." 

"Very  well.  I  leave  it  to  you.  You  seem  to 
have  got  some  brains.  Come  to  me  if  you  want 
any  assistance." 

Before  he  returned  to  the  Fury  Jack  scribbled 
a  note  to  his  mother  announcing  his  safe  return, 

240 


A   DISCOVERY 

and  begging  her  on  no  account  to  let  the  news 
travel  to  Bastable  Grange.  It  was  better  that 
for  the  present  his  cousins  should  be  ignorant  of 
his  whereabouts. 

On  reaching  the  cutter  he  started  on  a  run  up 
the  coast.  He  wished  to  keep  away  from  Lus- 
combe  until  Saturday.  Though  he  had  no  in- 
tention of  interfering  with  the  smugglers'  run 
on  that  day,  he  was  anxious  to  witness  it.  For  one 
thing,  it  would  prove  whether  he  had  read  the 
intercepted  message  aright;  moveover,  he  par- 
ticularly desired  to  find  out  who  was  engaged 
in  the  business.  Knowing  what  a  close  watch 
was  kept  by  the  smugglers,  he  recognized  that  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  learn  what  he  wished;  but 
his  successes  in  France  had  tended  to  dim  the 
memory  of  certain  less  fortunate  incidents  at 
Luscombe. 

He  now  took  Babbage  and  Turley  into  his 
confidence.  When  he  mentioned  Sandy  Cove  he 
met  with  an  unexpected  check. 

"There  ain't  no  such  place,  sir — leastways,  not 
on  this  coast,"  said  Turley. 

241 


JACK   HARDY 

"Are  you  sure?"  Jack  insisted. 

"Sartin,  sir." 

"That's  strange.  I  don't  think  I  read  the  word 
wrongly.  I  could  be  sure  it  was  Sandi,  the  way 
a  Frenchman  would  spell  it.  We'll  have  to  go 
back  to  Portsmouth  and  get  a  chart  of  the  coast; 
we  may  find  something  that  looks  like  it." 

But  when  he  got  a  chart  from  the  admiral  he 
searched  it  in  vain.  There  was  no  such  name  as 
Sandy  Cove.  He  was  convinced  that  he  had  not 
mistaken  the  signal ;  all  that  could  be  done  now 
was  to  inquire  in  the  neighborhood  of  Luscombe 
whether  any  of  the  inlets  was  locally  known  by 
that  name.  But  with  the  exception  of  the  Basta- 
bles  he  knew  of  no  one  whom  he  could  trust,  and 
he  had  a  strong  reason  for  avoiding  the  squire's 
house ;  nothing  must  be  done  that  might  put  De 
Fronsac  on  his  guard. 

Then  a  thought  of  Gumley  came  to  him — Joe 
Gumley,  the  one-legged  sailor.  He  was  Lus- 
combe born ;  though  he  kept  himself  to  himself, 
he  would  probably  know  the  whereabouts  of 
Sandy  Cove.  And  he  might  safely  be  asked  the 

242 


A   DISCOVERY 

question,  for,  never  a  friend  to  the  smugglers, 
he  had  a  distinct  grudge  against  them  since  that 
day  when  his  garden  was  ransacked,  and  he  was 
the  least  likely  of  men  to  give  them  any  infor- 
mation. 

"Yes,  I'll  ask  Gumley,"  thought  Jack.  "It 
can't  do  any  harm." 

It  was  afternoon  when  he  steered  the  Fury 
into  a  sheltered  cove  some  six  miles  west  of  Lus- 
combe.  He  had  chosen  the  spot  because  the  coast 
there  was  rugged,  and  the  shore  uninhabited, 
and  the  cutter  might  lie  safe  from  wind  and 
wave,  and  from  observation  by  too  inquisitive 
people. 

"Now,  Babbage,"  said  Jack  as  he  stepped 
ashore,  "I  leave  you  in  charge.  Keep  quiet,  and 
be  on  your  guard." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  And  what  if  you  don't  come 
back,  sir,  like  as  'twas  six  months  ago  t'other  side 
of  Luscombe?" 

"Run  back  to  Portsmouth  and  report  to  the 
admiral.  But  I'll  be  back,  never  fear." 

He  had  exchanged  his  midshipman's  hat  for  a 
243 


JACK   HARDY 

wide-brimmed  beaver,  and  wore  a  long  cloak 
which  made  him  look  more  like  a  magistrate's 
clerk  than  a  sailor.  Thus  disguised,  he  walked 
over  the  beach,  climbed  the  cliff,  and  struck  into 
a  path  which  would  lead  by  a  roundabout  way 
into  the  Luscombe  road.  It  was  very  unlikely 
that  he  would  meet  any  of  the  Luscombe  people 
in  this  direction;  but  Babbage's  question  re- 
minded him  of  the  unlucky  end  of  a  similar  er- 
rand in  the  previous  autumn,  and  he  smiled 
somewhat  grimly  as  he  remembered  his  resolve 
to  get  even  with  his  captors. 

A  white  mist  lay  over  the  land,  striking  very 
cold  against  his  face.  But  it  favored  his  chances 
of  escaping  notice  if  any  one  should  meet  him, 
and  he  was  indeed  glad  of  the  obscurity  when, 
in  the  driver  of  a  gig  that  passed  him,  he  thought 
he  recognized  the  bulky  form  of  Mr.  Gudgeon. 
Save  for  this  solitary  traveler,  the  road  was  quite 
deserted,  and  he  arrived  without  adventure  at 
Gumley's  cottage. 

He  looked  over  the  fence.  No  one  was  to  be 
seen.  Though  it  was  already  almost  dark,  owing 

244 


A    DISCOVERY 

to  the  mist,  no  light  appeared  in  the  cottage  win- 
dow. 

"Ahoy  O!"  he  called,  without  raising  his 
voice,  making  a  trumpet  of  his  hands  so  that  the 
sound  would  carry.  There  was  no  answer. 

He  rapped  on  the  fence,  calling  "Ahoy  Ol" 
again.  Still  there  was  no  reply. 

"Here  goes!"  he  said  to  himself.  Stripping 
off  his  cloak  he  folded  it  and  laid  it  on  the  nails, 
then  clambered  over  and  hastened  to  the  door. 

"I  say,  Gumley,  let  me  in,"  he  said,  rapping. 

"Who  be  'ee?  This  bean't  no  inn." 

"It's  me,  Gumley — Jack  Hardy,  you  know." 

"Tell  that  to  the  marines.  Mr.  Hardy's  far 
away.  Get  along  with  'ee." 

"Don't  be  a  jackass,  Gumley.  Open  the  door. 
Comely  will  know  me  if  you  don't." 

"  'Ware  dog,  then,  and  if  his  teeth  jine  in  your 
legs  'tis  your  own  doing,  whoever  ye  be!" 

There  was  a  rattling  of  the  bolts.  The  rdoor 
was  opened.  The  bulldog  rushed  out,  and  with 
a  growl  of  pleasure  began  to  rub  his  nose  against 
Jack's  trousers. 

245 


JACK   HARDY 

"There  you  are,  you  see,"  he  said,  stepping 
into  the  cottage,  to  find  Gumley  standing  on 
guard  with  a  blunderbuss. 

"Well,  sir,  this  is  a  rare  surprise.  I  seemed  to 
know  your  voice,  but  thought  for  sure  it  must  be 
your  ghost.  Never  did  I  expect  to  see  you  no 
more  in  this  world,  sir,  and  right  glad  I  be." 

"So  am  I,  Gumley.  But  fasten  up  again,  and 
light  your  lamp.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"But  how  did  ye  escape,  sir?"  asked  Gumley, 
as  he  shot  the  bolt  and  led  the  way  to  his  kitchen. 

"  'Tis  too  long  a  story  to  tell  you  now.  An- 
other time.  But  why,  man,  what's  the  matter 
with  you?  You  look  very  down  in  the  mouth." 

"Ay,  and  so  I  feels,  sir.  What  with  worry 
and  the  rheumatics  I  feel  I  be  not  long  for  this 
world.  I've  bin  twisted  up  with  it  all  winter, 
sir.  Since  I  sold  they  artichokes  to  Squire  Basta- 
ble  I've  bin  as  useless  as  an  old  hulk.  In  course, 
some  folks  might  think  me  lucky  having  only 
one  leg  to  get  the  rheumatics  in;  but  chok'  it  all, 
sir,  the  pain's  just  as  bad  in  the  wooden  leg  as  'tis 
in  t'other;  ay,  and  worse,  'cos  I  can  doctor  my 

246 


A   DISCOVERY 

natural  leg,  whereas  not  all  the  surgeons  of  King 
Jarge  hisself  could  do  this  old  stump  any  good." 

"  'Tis  hard  lines,  indeed.  But  what's  been 
worrying  you?" 

"Sit  ye  down,  sir,  and  I'll  tell  'ee  about  it." 


247 


CHAPTER  XV 

TAR  AND  FEATHERS 

"Fust  and  foremost,  sir,"  said  Gumley,  having 
lit  his  pipe,  "my  poor  old  moke  is  dead.  Ah!  he 
served  me  well  for  many  a  year,  and  carried  tons 
and  tons  o'  garden  stuff  into  Wynport.  But  now 
he's  gone,  and  if  so  be  I  can  do  any  digging  and 
planting  this  spring  I'll  have  no  one  to  carry  my 
vegetables  to  market." 

"  'Twas  old  age,  I  suppose.  He  looked  on  his 
last  legs  when  I  saw  him  first  on  the  Luscombe 
road  six  months  ago." 

"No,  sir,  'twarn't  old  age.  If  he  had  been  left 
alone  he'd  have  lived  to  be  as  old  as  Methusa- 
lum.  No,  'twarn't  old  age,  nor  overwork 
neither." 

"What  was  it,  then?" 

Gumley  hesitated.  He  looked  at  the  locked 
door  and  the  shuttered  window,  got  up  and  went 
to  the  back  door,  bending  his  head  forward  as  if 

248 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

listening.    Then  he  returned  to  his  chair,  and, 
between  two  puffs,  said,  under  his  breath — 

"  'Twere  p'ison,  sir." 

"Poison!" 

"Ay,  sir.  Jerry — so  I  called  him,  sir — were 
sound  as  a  ship's  bell  one  night,  sir;  next  morn- 
ing he  were  dead  as  mutton." 

"But  how  do  you  know  'twas  poison?" 

"  'Cos  that  very  same  day  Comely  was  took 
bad  and  well-nigh  went  to  glory,  too.  Where 
Comely  goes,  Gumley  rollers;  my  rheumatiz 
were  very  bad  that  day." 

"  'Tis  plain  you've  got  enemies,  Gumley.  I'm 
sorry  for  you.  Comely  looks  all  right  now,  at 
any  rate.  We'll  see  what  we  can  do  to  get  you  a 
new  donkey.  But  I  mustn't  waste  time.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I've  come  for.  Do  you  know  where 
Sandy  Cove  is?" 

Gumley  gave  a  start,  and  looked  round  the 
room  again  with  that  uneasy  glance  which  had 
attracted  Jack's  attention  before. 

"Axing  your  pardon,  sir,  would  ye  say  why 
and  wherefore  you  want  to  know  that?" 

249 


JACK   HARDY 

"I  don't  think  I  can — at  all  events,  not  yet. 
But  I'll  tell  you  one  thing.  I'm  on  the  king's 
business,  and  that  will  be  enough  for  an  old 
king's  man,  eh,  Gumley?" 

"True,  sir,  God  save  the  king!  All  the  same, 
I'd  rather  ye  axed  your  question  of  some  one 
else." 

"There  is  no  one  else.  Come,  Gumley,  out 
with  it.  What  is  the  mystery?" 

Gumley  still  hesitated.  He  scratched  his  poll, 
rubbed  the  dog's  head,  stirred  an  imaginary  fire 
with  his  wooden  leg,  and  once  more  glanced  un- 
easily at  the  window. 

"This  won't  do,"  said  Jack.  "Joe  Gumley,  I 
call  upon  you,  in  the  king's  name,  to  answer  this 
question  at  once.  Where  is  Sandy  Cove?" 

"If  you  puts  it  like  thatj  sir,  as  a  king's  man- 
leastways,  I  was  afore  I  got  this  plaguy  leg— 
I'm  bound  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.   Sandy 
Cove  is  the  name  what  the  smugglers  give  to  that 
there   little   chine  just  below   Mr.   Gudgeon's 
farm." 

"Ahl  And  how  came  you  to  know  that?" 
250 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

"Well,  sir,  if  truth  must  be  told,  in  the  king's 
name,  I  were  a  smuggler  myself  once,  afore  I 
became  a  king's  man." 

"I  see!  And  the  smugglers  are  down  on  you, 
are  they,  because  you  won't  join  'em  again?" 

"How  can  I,  sir?  Once  a  king's  man,  always 
a  king's  man — to  say  nothing  of  the  wooden  leg. 
I  served  his  Majesty  for  many  a  year,  sir,  and  I 
bean't  a-going  to  turn  agen  him.  Not  but  what 
'tis  main  hard,  for  smuggling's  an  uncommon 
fine  trade — if  so  be  I  can  make  bold  to  speak  free 
afore  a  king's  officer." 

"I  won't  peach,"  said  Jack,  laughing.  "Speak 
freely?  Of  course  you  can.  And  you'd  better 
tell  me  all  about  it  now.  You  look  as  uneasy  as 
if  you  were  sitting  on  pins." 

"So  I  be,  sir,  and  that's  the  truth.  No  longer 
ago  than  last  Wednesday,  Mr.  Goodman  he 
chanced  to  come  upon  a  string  of  carts  carrying 
smuggled  goods  from  Luscombe  to  Wickham 
Ferrers.  He  nabbed  the  whole  lot,  sir,  horses 
and  all.  And  my  old  mates  got  the  notion  into 
their  noddles  that  'twas  me  as  blabbed — me,  sir, 

251 


JACK   HARDY 

what  knowed  no  more  about  it  than  that  there 
innocent  dog.  But  they  believe  it;  and  there 
'tis.  They  swore  they'd  make  me  smart  for  it, 
and  I  dursn't  stir  out  o'  my  door  for  fear  I  get  a 
good  crack  on  the  nob  or  something  just  as 
awk'ard." 

"I  don't  understand  why  they're  so  down  on 
you.  You  keep  yourself  to  yourself,  as  you  told 
me.  Why  should  they  think  'twas  you  split  on 
them?" 

"I  make  it  out  this  way,  sir.  I'm  a'  old  smug- 
gler, and  know  all  the  secrets  o'  the  trade.  I'm 
a'  old  king's  man,  too.  They  don't  square.  I 
won't  jine  my  old  mates,  and  they,  being  a  bit 
wooden-headed,  thinks  I'm  agen  'em.  I  bean't 
agen  'em,  only  I  bean't  for  'em.  I  can't  go  agen 
the  king,  nor  I  can't  go  back  on  my  old  mates ; 
but  bless  your  soul,  they  don't  see  what  I  mean 
when  I  says  I  keep  myself  to  myself." 

"Well,  you  can't  run  with  the  hare  and  hunt 
with  the  hounds.  But  what's  that?" 

He  sprang  up  from  his  chair  and  went  toward 
the  shuttered  window.  Comely  went  to  the  door, 

252 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

growling.  From  without,  muffled  by  the  'dis- 
tance, came  the  tramp  of  heavy  feet  along  the 
road,  mingled  with  the  hum  of  voices. 

"  'Tis  come,  sir,"  sighed  Gumley,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair  resignedly.  "Here  they  be  at  last. 
I  knowed  this  would  be  the  end  of  it.  They  said 
they'd  tar  and  feather  me,  and  they  be  come  to 
do  it." 

"Two  can  play  at  that  game,  Gumley.  I'd 
sooner  not  be  recognized  now,  but  I'll  not  leave 
you  to  deal  with  'em  single-handed." 

"I  take  it  very  kind  o'  you,  sir,  but  there's  no 
call  for  you  to  be  mixed  up  in  it.  If  they  mean 
to  get  in,  in  they'll  get,  sure  enough;  and  ye'll 
only  land  yourself  in  a  nasty  rumpus,  and  do  no 
good.  Thank  ye  kindly.  I'll  let  ye  out  by  the 
back  door  afore  they  come,  and  me  and  Come- 
ly'll  do  what  we  can,  for  chok'  it  all,  it  bean't  in 
human  nature  to  be  tarred  and  feathered  with- 
out a  bit  of  a  scrimmage." 

"No,  no.  If  you're  going  to  make  a  fight  of 
it,  I'll  lend  a  hand.  We're  well  armed.  You've 
your  blunderbuss  and  a  cutlass ;  I've  two  pistols 

253 


JACK   HARDY 

and  a  dirk;  and  our  good  friend  Comely  here 
has  excellent  teeth,  I'll  be  bound." 

At  this  moment  a  loud  shout  was  heard  from 
the  road,  followed  by  an  insistent  knocking  on 
the  gate.  Gumley  stumped  up  the  rickety  stairs 
to  the  floor  above,  threw  open  the  windows  look- 
ing on  the  garden,  and  shouted : 

"Who  be  you,  and  what  do  'ee  want?" 

"We  want  you,  Joe  Gumley,"  came  the  hoarse 
answer,  "and  we're  gwine  to  have  'ee,  too." 

"I  bean't  deaf,  Tom  Berry,  so  ye  needn't  bust 
your  fog-horn.  What  do  'ee  want  wi'  me?" 

"We'll  show  'ee.  You  bin  peaching,  you  dirty 
mean  sneaker.  Come  down  along,  and  we'll  give 
'ee  a  fair  trial  afore  the  men  as  used  to  be  your 


mates." 


"No,  thank  'ee,  Tom.  Whoever  says  I  bin 
peaching  says  a  lie,  and  as  for  trial,  why,  I  bean't 
a  fool,  I  bean't.  If  I  wants  trying  I'll  go  afore  a 
justice  o'  the  peace  like  Squire  Bastable,  or  a 
judge  and  jury  at  the  'sizes,  and  not  afore  Tom 
Berry  or  Bill  Widdicombe  or  any  other  mum- 
ble^chopped  chaw-bacon.  See  then,  I  don't  want 

254 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

to  use  hard  words  to  old  ship-mates  o'  mine, 
but—" 

Jack  heard  no  more,  for  Gumley's  words  were 
drowned  by  a  volley  of  shouts  and  curses  from 
the  men  below.  He  let  down  the  window  with  a 
bang. 

"They  be  coming  over,  sir,"  he  called  to  Jack. 
"  'Tis  all  hands  to  repel  boarders.  They're 
mounting  on  balks  of  wood  to  'scape  the  nails. 
Now  they're  over.  And  they  be  split  into  two 
parties,  half  a  dozen  each;  and  one's  coming 
straight  for  the  front  door ;  t'other's  gone  round 
to  the  back.  I  be  coming,  sir,  I  be  coming." 

By  the  time  he  reached  Jack's  side  the  men 
had  begun  to  batter  simultaneously  at  both  the 
doors  with  the  balks  of  wood  which,  knowing 
Gumley,  they  had  brought  with  them,  evidently 
anticipating  resistance.  The  men  at  the  front 
door  were  protected  by  a  narrow  porch;  those 
at  the  back  were  fully  exposed;  and  Jack  saw 
that  unless  something  were  done  at  once  to  check 
them  they  would  soon  be  able  to  break  a  way  in, 
for  the  doors  were  not  very  substantial  pieces  of 

255 


JACK   HARDY 

timber,  and  could  not  long  stand  the  heavy  bat- 
tering to  which  they  were  now  being  subjected. 

He  stood  with  Gumley  and  the  dog  at  the 
front  door. 

"What's  your  blunderbuss  loaded  with,  Gum- 
ley?"  he  said. 

"Small  shot,  sir." 

"Then  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  I'll  fling  the 
door  open;  you  fire  at  their  legs;  then  we'll  all 
three  charge  'em.  We've  only  half  a  dozen  to 
deal  with;  the  men  at  the  back  will  stop  work 
when  they  hear  the  row.  They'll  come  rushing 
round.  Be  ready  to  get  back  and  haul  the  dog 
off.  I'll  keep  my  pistols  in  reserve;  the  less  fir- 
ing the  better;  we  don't  want  all  Luscombe  here. 
Lend  me  a  muffler,  quick!" 

He  pulled  the  brim  of  his  hat  down  over  his 
face,  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  cloak,  and 
wrapped  the  muffler  Gumley  gave  him  closely 
round  his  chin.  All  the  time  the  men  were  ham- 
mering at  the  door,  and  Comely  was  moving 
restlessly  about,  uttering  deep  growls. 

"Standby,  Gumley!" 

256 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

Jack  quickly  slipped  the  bolts,  threw  the  door 
open,  and  dodged  back.  There  was  a  blinding 
flash,  a  roar,  and  yells  of  pain  and  rage  from  the 
smugglers,  who,  crouching  in  the  porch  around 
their  battering-ram,  received  the  crammed 
charge  of  the  blunderbuss  about  their  legs. 
They  dropped  the  timber,  and  gave  back  a  little. 
Before  they  had  recovered  from  their  surprise, 
the  bulldog,  snarling  with  fury,  was  among 
them,  and  behind  him  came  Jack  and  Gumley, 
who  laid  about  them  doughtily  with  cutlass  and 
dirk — using,  however,  the  flat,  for  neither 
wished  to  do  any  serious  hurt  unless  they  were 
hard-pressed. 

Amazement  was  now  turned  to  confusion  and 
fright.  The  intruders  had  no  thought  but  to  hob- 
ble out  of  the  way  of  these  furious  combatants. 
But  as  they  pushed  one  another  toward  the  gar- 
den they  were  met  by  their  comrades  from  the 
rear,  whom  the  shout  and  the  cries  had  inter- 
rupted, as  Jack  expected.  Their  arrival  only 
doubled  the  confusion.  Amid  the  babel  of  shouts 
they  could  hear  nothing  of  what  had  happened. 

257 


JACK   HARDY 

* 

Some  of  the  men  were  still  yelling  under  the 
blows  of  the  dirk  and  cutlass;  and  when  one 
howled  "Ho!  Hi!  Help!  The  dog's  got  me!" 
they  were  seized  with  uncontrollable  panic ;  and 
with  one  consent  bolted  down  the  garden  and 
scrambled  over  the  fence,  with  no  small  damage 
to  their  nether  garments  from  the  nails,  never 
pausing  until  they  perceived  that  no  pursuit  was 
attempted. 

One  man,  however,  was  left  on  the  field.  In 
the  entrance  to  the  porch  lay  a  big  fellow  groan- 
ing. Comely  held  him  fast  by  the  leg.  Gumley 
hastened  to  him  and  tried  to  release  him  from 
the  dog's  teeth,  but,  finding  that  impossible,  he 
dragged  dog  and  man  bodily  into  the  cottage, 
slammed  the  door,  and  bolted  it.  Jack  was  al- 
ready inside. 

"Let  go,  Comely,  old  boy,"  said  his  master, 
stooping  to  release  the  man,  who,  half  dead  with 
fright,  lay  groaning  where  Gumley  had  dropped 
him.  "Why,  what  are  ye  bellowing  like  a  sea- 
serpent  for?"  he  added.  "His  teeth  never  went 
further  than  your  leggings!  Who  be  ye  for  a 

258 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

chicken-hearted — why,  dash  my  buttons,  'tis  Bill 
Gudgeon !  Oh,  Billy,  what  a'  example  to  set  your 
good  feyther!  Oh,  my  goodness,  won't  he  be  took 
bad  with  the  flutters  when  he  hears  this !  Ahoy, 

Mr. !  Avast  there,  Joe  Gumley,  blowed  if 

you  wasn't  just  a-going  to  put  your  foot  in  it. 
Billy,  my  son,  you  come  along  o'  me." 

He  hauled  the  trembling  youth  into  the  kitch- 
en, and  pushed  him  into  a  chair,  where  he  sat 
immovable,  in  mortal  terror  of  the  bulldog, 
which  stood  by,  fixing  him  with  his  thirsty  eyes. 

Meanwhile  Jack  had  gone  to  the  upper  win- 
dow to  see  what  had  become  of  the  enemy.  They 
were  out  of  sight,  but  when  he  opened  the  win- 
dow he  guessed  by  their  voices  that  they  were  in 
conference  just  beyond  the  fence. 

"Ay,  and  more'n  Gumley  1" 

In  the  still  air  of  the  frosty  March  evening  the 
hoarse  whisper  came  clearly  to  Jack's  ears: 

"In  course ;  there  was  his  dog." 

"I  knows  that.  But  I  seed  another  man,  all 
in  black,  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  his  face 
all  swaddled  up :  Goo'dman  hisself ,  maybe."  , 

259 


JACK   HARDY 

"Well,  I  be  gwine  home  along.  I've  got  a 
score  o'  pellets  somewhere  about  my  legs,  and 
they'll  p'ison  my  blood  less  I  pick  'em  out  soon." 

"Ay  true,  and  we'll  go  lame  for  a  month  or 
more.  Chok'  it  all!  Who'd  ha'  thowt  old  Joe 
would  ha'  bin  so  fierce !" 

As  they  were  moving  away,  a  gig  rattled  up 
and  stopped. 

"  'Tis  Mr.  Gudgeon,  so  'tis,"  Jack  heard  a 
rough  voice  say. 

"Not  so  loud!"  was  the  hasty  answer.  "What 
luck, lads?" 

"None  at  all,  and  be  hanged  to  it.  We've  not 
got  nowt  but  a  trouncing,  Mr.  Gudgeon." 

"Lower,  speak  lower,  man.  What  happened?" 

"Blunderbuss  and  cutlass  and  dog's  teeth; 
that's  what  happened,  Mr.  Gudgeon,  as  your  boy 
Bill  could  tell  'ee.  Why,  where  be  the  lad?" 

"Been  and  creeped  home  along,  by  the  look 
o't,"  said  another  man.  "He  bean't  here.  There's 
blood  for  'ee!  There's  spirit!  What  a  bold- 
hearted  first-born  you  have  got,  to  be  sure,  Mr. 
Gudgeon!" 

260 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

"Hush,  man!  Here,  come  along.  I  can  take 
four  or  five  of  'ee  in  the  gig,  and  you  can  tell  me 
the  whole  story  as  we  go." 

The  gig  rattled  away;  the  men  for  whom  there 
was  not  room  shambled  after;  and  Jack  smiled 
as  he  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

"There,  Comely,  watch  him!"  Gumley  was 
saying.  "I  be  gwine  to  look  around  the  garden, 
sir,  to  make  sure  none  on  'em  be  left." 

Jack  made  no  reply,  but  stood  at  the  door 
while  Gumley  stumped  round  the  inclosure.  He 
came  back  by  and  by  grinning. 

"They  be  all  gone,  sir,  all  but  this."  He  held 
up  a  pail  out  of  which  the  handle  of  a  brush  was 
sticking,  and  a  bundle  of  feathers.  "  'Twas  by 
the  back  door,  sir." 

"Ah!  I've  a  notion.  Shut  the  door  and  come 
along,  Gumley." 

Keeping  his  feathers  well  covered,  and  deep- 
ening his  voice  to  the  lowest  pitch  possible,  Jack 
addressed  the  prisoner,  who  sat  in  shivering  still- 
ness, his  eyes  fixed  on  the  vigilant  dog. 

"Now,  Bill  Gudgeon,  you  shall  choose.  Spend 
261 


JACK   HARDY 

the  night  with  the  dog,  and  go  before  Squire 
Bastable  to-morrow;  or  use  this  brush  you  came 
to  use — on  yourself.  'Twould  be  a  pity  to  waste 
such  excellent  tar." 

"And  the  feathers  be  uncommon  soft,"  added 
Gum  ley. 

The  victim  lifted  his  eyes  for  one  moment,  but 
said  never  a  word. 

"Come,  come,  make  up  your  mind.  The  dog — 
or  the  tar  brush." 

Still  the  lad  hesitated.  Fright  seemed  to  have 
tied  his  tongue. 

"Very  well,  the  dog,  then.  If  he  goes  for  you 
in  the  night  you'd  better  sing  out." 

"Watch  him,  Comely!" 

The  dog  acknowledged  the  order  with  a  growl 
of  satisfaction,  and  Jack  and  Gumley  moved  to- 
ward the  door. 

"Stop,  measter!  Stop,  Joe  Gumley!"  cried  the 
unhappy  youth,  finding  his  voice  at  last.  "Not 
the  dog!  For  gracious  goodness'  sake,  not  the 
dog." 

"Off  with  your  coat  then,"  said  Jack,  finding 
262 


TAR   AND    FEATHERS 

some  difficulty  in  keeping  his  voice  at  the  proper 
profundity. 

"Ay,  or  your  good  feyther'll  have  the  flutters 
worse'n  ever,"  said  Gumley.  "Such  a  good  coat, 
too  good  to  spoil." 

Bill  Gudgeon  removed  his  coat,  always  eying 
the  dog,  which  stood  watching  with  intelligent 
appreciation.  Then  Gumley  handed  him  the 
brush. 

"A  little  on  the  nose  to  begin  with,"  said  Jack. 

Forthwith  Bill's  nose  was  black. 

"Now  the  cheeks;  no — a  little  more,  if  you 
please — yes,  that's  right.  Now  a  dab  across  the 
forehead :  don't  spare  the  tar,  there's  plenty  more 
in  the  pail — yes,  that's  capital!  Now  a  few 
feathers,  Gumley." 

The  trembling  lad  stuck  the  feathers,  as  they 
were  handed  to  him,  on  the  glistening  tar.  He 
groaned  once,  but  Comely's  echoing  growl  si- 
lenced him  and  made  him  hurry. 

"Now  I  think  he'll  do,"  said  Jack  at  last. 

"Beautiful,  sir!  Whoever  seed  a  better  job 
this  side  of  the  line?" 

263 


JACK   HARDY 

"Listen,  Bill  Gudgeon!  You'll  tell  your  fa- 
ther that  if  Mr.  Gumley  is  molested  again,  you 
and  your  mates  will  be  hauled  up  before  Squire 
Bastable  and  sent  to  cool  your  heels  in  the  lock- 
up. You  can  go!" 

Bill  took  his  coat,  rose  from  the  chair,  and 
sidled  to  the  door,  his  eyes  never  leaving  the  dog. 
He  was  gone ! 

Jack  sat  down  and  laughed  quietly. 

"I  think  he's  had  enough,  Gumley.  Now  I 
must  go.  I'll  see  you  again  soon." 


264 


CHAPTER  XVI 
A  RUN  AT  SANDY  COVE 

It  took  Jack  much  longer  in  the  darkness  to 
return  to  the  Fury  than  it  had  taken  to  reach  the 
cottage,  and  he  found  that  Babbage  was  becom- 
ing uneasy. 

"All  safe,  men?"  he  said. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  And  you,  sir?" 

"Right  as  a  trivet.  Heave  the  anchor,  boys; 
I  want  to  be  fifty  miles  away  by  the  morning." 

He  required  a  little  time  for  thinking  out  a 
plan  for  turning  to  account  his  discovery  of  the 
signaler's  code,  and  meanwhile  it  was  desirable 
to  keep  out  of  the  smugglers'  reach.  Before 
dawn  he  dropped  anchor  at  a  little  fishing  vil- 
lage fifty  miles  west  of  Luscombe.  It  was  a  re- 
mote and  secluded  spot,  and  there  was  little 
chance  of  the  Fury's  presence  coming  to  the  ears 
of  the  Luscombe  folk  for  some  days. 

265 


JACK   HARDY 

"I'm  going  ashore  again,  Babbage.  Lie 
quietly  here.  I  may  be  away  a  couple  of  days." 

Still  disguised,  he  went  into  the  village,  hired 
a  gig,  and  drove  thirty  miles  in  the  Luscombe 
direction  to  the  village  of  Middleton,  about  ten 
miles  from  the  sea.  He  put  up  at  the  Pig  and 
Whistle,  scribbled  a  note  to  the  riding-officer 
and  despatched  it  by  a  horseman  to  Wynport. 

"SIR"  (he  wrote),— 

"Be  good  enough  to  meet  me  here  this  even- 
ing. Ask  at  the  inn  for  Mr.  Loveday.  The  mat- 
ter is  urgent,  and  the  business  the  king's. 

"Yours  truly, 

"JACK  HARDY." 

At  six  o'clock  Mr.  Goodman  appeared. 

"I  am  here,  Mr.  Hardy,  but  'tis  most  incon- 
venient. I  take  it  rather  hard  that  a  man  of  my 
age-" 

"Exactly,  Mr.  Goodman.  I'm  not  so  old  as 
you,  and  I  should  have  come  to  you  if  I  hadn't 
good  reasons  for  keeping  clear  of  the  coast  folk. 

266 


A   RUN   AT   SANDY   COVE 

I've  information  that  the  smugglers  intend  to 
make  a  run  to-morrow." 

"Is  that  all?  Why,  I  often  get  such  informa- 
tion, and  nine  times  out  of  ten  it  is  false.  Be- 
sides, what's  the  good  of  knowing  that  a  run  is 
to  be  made  if  you  don't  know  where?" 

"I  do  know  where." 

"Oh,  in  that  case  leave  it  to  me.  I'll  bag  the 
whole  gang.  There's  a  score  of  rascals  at  Lus- 
combe  I'd  like  to  hang — ay,  and  will,  too.  If 
your  news  is  correct,  'twill  be  pretty  soon,  I 
promise  you." 

"Just  so,  Mr.  Goodman.  But  meanwhile  I've 
come  to  arrange  that  the  run  may  be  made  with- 
out interference." 

"What!  Do  I  hear  ye  aright?  A  king's  officer 
name  such  a  thing  to  me!  'Pon  my  soul  and 
body,  Mr.  Hardy,  I'm  surprised  at  you.  'Twill 
be  my  duty — a  painful  duty,  Mr.  Hardy — to  re- 
port the  matter.  Never  in  the  whole  seventeen 
years  of  my  service  have — " 

"Quite  so,  Mr.  Goodman,"  Jack  interrupted. 
"But  Admiral  Horniman  thinks  that  in  this  case 

267 


JACK   HARDY 

the  king's  service  requires  this  little  departure 
from  the  ordinary  course.  And  'twill  only  make 
the  capture  of  your  rascals  more  certain  in  the 
end.  We  have  to  meet  them  with  their  own 
weapons — match  ruse  with  ruse;  and  that's  why, 
with  the  admiral's  approval,  I  want  you  and 
your  land-guard  to  help  me." 

Jack  smiled  so  pleasantly  and  spoke  with  such 
an  air  of  deference  that  the  riding-officer,  taking 
what  he  said  as  a  compliment  to  his  own  astute- 
ness, thawed. 

"A  capital  idea,  Mr.  Hardy  1  Exactly;  play 
their  own  game.  The  admiral  was  always  a  man 
of  sense.  But  what  do  you  propose?" 

Then  followed  a  long  conversation,  in  which 
Jack  explained  as  much  of  his  plan  as  he  thought 
would  suffice.  Mr.  Goodman  was  captivated 
with  the  notion,  and  left  by  and  by  in  high  good- 
humor  with  Jack,  himself,  and  everybody. 

Jack  did  not  know  the  time  of  the  intended 
run.  It  would  certainly  not  be  before  dark,  so 
when  he  left  the  inn  on  the  following  afternoon 
he  timed  his  departure  so  as  to  arrive  near  Lus- 

268 


A   RUN    AT   SANDY   COVE 

combe  just  after  da'rkness  had  fallen.  The  dis- 
tance was  nearly  twenty  miles  across  country. 
He  drove  some  ten  miles  directly  toward  Lus- 
combe,  then  struck  inland  for  another  seven 
miles,  alighted  at  a  cottage  recommended  by  the 
riding-officer,  and  left  the  gig  in  charge  of  the 
owner,  a  trusty  man,  saying  that  he  would  meet 
him  at  the  same  place  at  daybreak  next  morn- 
ing. 

From  the  cottage  to  Luscombe  the  distance 
was  about  five  miles.  He  knew  the  lay  of  the 
land,  and,  following  unfrequented  paths,  came 
to  the  edge  of  Congleton's  Hollow  in  about  an 
hour  and  a  half.  Skirting  this  cautiously,  he 
made  his  way  along  the  edge  of  the  stream  that 
had  formed  the  chine  he  now  knew  as  Sandy 
Cove. 

It  was  a  good  mile  to  the  sea.  Every  now  and 
then  he  stopped  and  listened,  to  make  sure  that 
he  was  not  being  followed;  hereabouts  he  had 
come  unexpectedly  upon  Gudgeon  and  De  Fron- 
sac.  As  he  came  near  Gudgeon's  farm  he  went 
with  redoubled  caution.  He  heard  a  sand-piper 

269 


JACK   HARDY 

whistling;  a  few  gulls  screeched  above  his  head; 
save  for  these  there  was  silence. 

He  remembered  having  noticed^  in  the  course 
of  his  rambles  with  Arthur,  a  large  evergreen 
bush  growing  on  a  shelf  of  rock  some  distance 
above  the  bed  of  the  stream.  That  seemed  to 
him  the  very  place  at  which  to  post  himself,  for 
while  he  could  get  from  it  a  good  view  of  what 
was  happening  on  the  shore  only  a  few  yards 
below,  it  was  so  thick,  and  so  situated  in  relation 
to  its  surroundings,  that  he  would  run  little  dan- 
ger there  of  being  observed. 

With  some  difficulty  he  clambered  up  to  the 
bush.  Looking  round  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
not  espied,  he  forced  his  way  into  it,  and  waited. 
The  time  passed  slowly.  It  was  a  black  March 
evening,  with  a  nipping  wind,  and  in  spite  of  his 
cloak  Jack  felt  bitterly  cold.  Hour  after  hour 
drawled  away,  and  there  had  been  no  sound. 
He  wondered  whether  the  run  had  been  aban- 
doned. Or  had  he,  after  all,  made  a  mistake? 

At  last,  when,  feeling  numbed  and  depressed, 
he  had  almost  resolved  to  leave  the  spot,  he  heard 

270 


A   RUN   AT   SANDY   COVE 

voices  from  just  above — on  the  zigzag  path  from 
Gudgeon's  farm  to  the  sea. 

"Send  round  the  word ;  she'll  be  in  in  ten  min- 
utes. There's  no  preventives  on  the  prowl,  or 
we'd  have  heard  afore  now  from  Totley  Point 
or  Laxted  Cove.  Aha!  Goodman  and  his  joes 
have  never  yet  got  past  Peter  Bunce  and  Jan 
Derriman.  Bill,  a'  believe  I've  got  some  o'  they 
pellets  in  my  calf  yet." 

"More  fool  'ee  for  meddling  wi'  old  Joe." 

One  of  the  men  hurried  down  the  path,  while 
the  other  returned  to  the  top  of  the  cliff.  Listen- 
ing intently,  Jack  heard  the  man's  footsteps 
sounding  ever  more  faintly  as  they  receded  in  the 
direction  of  the  village. 

He  was  right,  then!  This  was  Sandy  Cove, 
and  here  the  run  was  to  be  made.  He  felt  im- 
patient for  the  work  to  begin.  The  sky  was  very 
dark,  there  was  no  moon — smugglers  avoided 
moonlit  nights — but  the  air  was  so  clear  that  he 
hoped  to  see  well  enough  for  his  purpose. 

Ah!  there  were  dark  figures  moving  quietly 
about  the  beach  below.  The  men  had  taken  off 

271 


JACK   HARDY 

their  boots,  it  appeared,  and  there — yesl  It  was 
the  black  shape  of  a  vessel  slowly  approaching 
the  shore.  The  sails  were  run  down  with  scarce 
a  sound ;  the  lugger  hove  to  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  cove;  then,  on  a  gangway  invisible  to 
Jack,  the  smugglers  went  to  and  fro,  those  com- 
ing shoreward  bent  under  heavy  burdens. 

Jack  watched  eagerly.  The  carriers  brought 
their  loads  up  the  chine,  and  disappeared  along 
the  same  path  that  he  himself  h'a'd  followed  a 
few  hours  before.  It  seemed  but  a  few  minutes ; 
then  he  heard  a  voice  say  "That's  the  last;"  the 
lugger  stood  out  to  sea,  and  Sandy  Cove  was  as 
quiet  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

Slipping  out  of  his  hiding-place,  Jack  very 
cautiously  followed  the  last  man,  who  carried  no 
load  and  seemed  to  be  in  some  authority  over 
the  rest.  Jack  could  never  venture  near  enough 
to  see  his  features,  nor  even  to  get  a  complete 
view  of  his  form.  !He  tracked  him  to  Congleton's 
Hollow,  and  there  was  compelled  to  pause  and 
dodge  some  of  the  carriers  who,  having  finished 
their  work,  were  making  their  way  homeward 

272 


A   RUN   AT   SANDY   COVE 

across  the  fields.  Waiting  a  little  while  until  all 
seemed  safe,  he  crept  across  the  Hollow  to  the 
summer-house  where  he  had  found  the  iron  steps. 
It  was  from  this  that  the  carriers  had  come. 
Clearly  the  smuggled  goods  had  been  deposited 
there.  He  searched  as  thoroughly  as  he  could  in 
the  darkness,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  them. 

"  'Tis  a  job  for  daylight,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"Now  for  my  tramp  back." 

He  was  dead  tired  when  he  reached  the  cot- 
tage where  he  had  left  his  gig.  The  cottager 
awoke  at  his  knock,  put  the  horse  in,  and  drove 
him  at  once  to  Middleton,  where  he  slept  heavily 
for  three  or  four  hours  before  Mr.  Goodman  ar- 
rived in  the  morning. 

"Well,  Mr.  Hardy,  I  hope  you  spotted  the 
rascals  as  we  arranged." 

"I  saw  the  run,"  replied  Jack,  with  an  inward 
chuckle  at  the  riding-officer's  "we,"  "and  a  pre- 
cious cold  night  it  was.  They've  hidden  the  stuff 
somewhere  in  old  Congleton's  summer-house." 

"Have  they  indeed?  I'll  seize  it  at  once." 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Goodman,  don't  be  in  a  hurry. 
273 


JACK   HARDY 

You  might  send  a  few  of  your  men  to  Luscombe, 
telling  them  nothing,  of  course.  If  they're  seen 

about  there  for  a  day  or  two  it  will  prevent  the 

/ 
smugglers  from  removing  their  stuff  until  it  is 

too  late.  And  if  you  don't  mind,  send  a  messen- 
ger to  Waddon  for  me,  and  tell  Babbage  to  re- 
main where  he  is  till  further  orders." 

"I  will,  Mr.  Hardy.  By  George!  I  hope  Ad- 
miral Horniman  will  be  pleased  with  the  way 
we  are  carrying  out  his  plans." 

Jack  smiled  as  the  riding-officer  took  his  leave, 
— Mr.  Goodman  knew  only  half  the  plan;  Ad- 
miral Horniman  none  of  it. 

The  most  important  part  of  Jack's  task  was 
still  before  him.  He  had  determined  to  be  in 
the  turret  room  of  Congleton's  Folly  on  Wednes- 
day evening;  how  was  he  to  get  there?  The  re- 
movable steps  were  no  doubt  being  used  by  the 
signaler;  but  it  was  not  likely  that  they  were  still 
hidden  in  the  same  place.  De  Fronsac,  of  course, 
would  believe  Jack  to  be  safe  in  a  French  prison ; 
but  the  last  hiding-place  having  been  so  easily 
discovered,  he  would  certainly  choose  a  new  one. 

274 


A   RUN    AT    SANDY   COVE 

Yet,  if  the  tower  was  to  be  entered,  steps  of  some 
kind  must  be  had. 

Jack  spent  a  quiet  Sunday,  and  early  on  Mon- 
day morning  drove  a  few  miles  inland  to  another 
village,  where  he  entered  the  smithy  and  asked 
the  smith  if  he  could  make  him  quickly  a  dozen 
iron  loops  with  a  tail  to  them. 

"Well,  maybe  I  might,"  said  the  smith,  "if 
you  showed  me  the  pattern." 

"Here  you  are,"  replied  Jack,  drawing  a 
rough  sketch  of  the  article  he  wanted  with  a 
piece  of  charcoal  on  the  side  of  the  forge. 

"And  what  might  that  be  for,  measter?"  the 
smith  inquired.  "A  cur'ous  looking  objeck." 

"Yes,  isn't  it?  'Tis  for  a  game  I'm  going  to 
play — quite  a  new  thing  in  these  parts." 

"Well,  to  be  sure!  And  how  thick  do  'ee  want 
'em?" 

Jack  could  only  guess  the  dimensions.  He 
tried  to  recall  the  size  of  the  holes  in  the  wall  of 
the  Folly,  and  gave  the  smith  a  thickness  which 
he  hoped  would  turn  out  within  the  mark.  The 
steps  were  easily  made  when  the  man  had 

275 


JACK   HARDY 

grasped  the  idea.  Getting  them  wrapped  up, 
Jack  drove  back  to  Middleton,  and  thence  to 
Waddon,  where  Babbage  and  the  crew  of  the 
Fury  were  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  him  once 


more. 

a  5 


Tis  long  waiting  when  you  don't  know, 
sir,"  said  Babbage.  "As  brother  Sol  used  to  say: 
Wait  not,  want  not,'  and  true  it  is,  though  so 
plain." 

During  the  rest  of  Monday  and  all  Tuesday 
the  Fury  cruised  down  Channel,  merely  to  kill 
time.  The  men  wondered  why  their  young  com- 
mander did  not  sail  out  to  sea  and  do  some  scout- 
ing work,  if  nothing  else,  but  Jack  did  not  wish 
to  run  any  risks ;  besides,  he  was  busily  occupied 
in  drawing  up  a  message  in  the  cipher  used  by 
the  signaler  at  the  Folly. 

On  Wednesday  morning  the  Fury  put  in  once 
more  at  Waddon,  and  Jack  left  again.  These 
mysterious  absences  were  somewhat  trying  to 
Babbage's  equanimity. 

"But  there,"  he  said,  talking  the  matter  over 
with  Turley,  "to  gentlemen  of  eddication,  I 

276 


s'pose,  our  heads — yourn  an'  mine,  Turley — be 
only  like  so  many  turnips." 

"Mr.  Babbage?"  Turley's  tone  was  one  of 
surprise  and  remonstrance. 

"Wot?" 

"Not  Turnips." 

"Why  not?" 

"Why,  sir,  'cos  they  have  Tops." 

"Not  when  they're  mashed,  Turley,  wi'  butter, 
or  dripping  for  cheapness." 


277 


CHAPTER  XVII 

DIAMOND  CUT  DIAMOND 

Unconscious  of  the  bo'sun's  melancholy  re- 
flections, Jack  was  hurrying  toward  the  village. 
There  he  again  hired  the  gig,  and  drove  once 
more  over  the  same  road,  leaving  Middleton  so 
as  to  reach  the  neighborhood  of  Luscombe  about 
dusk.  With  him  he  took  the  iron  steps. 

He  made  his  way  with  great  caution  to  Gum- 
ley's  cottage.  This  time  he  did  not  hail  the  old 
sailor  from  the  roadway,  but  got  over  the  fence 
and  tapped  at  the  window.  When  he  was  ad- 
mitted, he  announced  without  preliminary  the 
object  of  his  visit. 

"I  want  you  to  come  and  lend  a  hand,  Gum- 
ley." 

"Might  I  axe  how  and  wherefore,  sir?" 

"I'll  tell  you  that  as  we  go  along." 

"  'Tis  not  to  go  back  on  old  messmates,  sir?" 

"Your  old  messmates  have  gone  back  on  you. 
278 


DIAMOND    CUT   DIAMOND 

But  'tis  not  that,  and,  anyway,  I  call  upon  you, 
Joe  Gumley,  in  the  king's  name — " 

"Oh,  if  you  put  it  like  that,  sir,  I  don't  axe  no 
questions.  The  king's  name  is  enough  for  me." 

"I  know  it.  Come  along,  and  bring  Comely 
with  you." 

The  three  set  out,  Gumley  curiously  eying 
Jack's  bundle. 

"We're  bound  for  Congleton's  Hollow,  Gum- 
ley." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

"Any  news  since  I  saw  you  last?" 

"Nary  much,  sir.  Young  Bill  Gudgeon 
haven't  bin  seen  since.  And  the  preventives  have 
bin  paying  surprise  visits  down  in  the  village." 

"That's  well.  The  smugglers  won't  have  dared 
to  remove  their  cargo." 

"Ah!  I  knowed  as  how  they'd  made  another 


run." 


"How  did  you  know  that?  You  keep  yourself 
to  yourself,  you  know." 

"True,  sir.   But  old  Gudgeon's  chimbleys  do 
be  uncommon  foul,  to  be  sure." 

279 


JACK   HARDY 

"What's  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"Why,  sir,  I  were  thinking  that's  the  only 
thing  I've  seed  to-day.  But  he'll  soon  be  leaving 
off  fires.  Be  you  gwine  to  the  Hollow  by  the 
lane,  sir?" 

"Yes.  'Tis  a  little  longer  way  round,  but  I 
don't  want  to  meet  anybody." 

"True,  sir.  Comely  will  give  us  good  notice 
if  any  one  is  about." 

They  came  at  length  to  the  Hollow.  Jack  led 
the  way  through  the  trees  to  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  tower,  and  searched  the  neighbor- 
hood thoroughly  to  make  sure  that  no  one  was 
on  the  watch. 

"Now,  Gumley,  I'm  going  up  to  the  room  at 
the  top.  Not  through  the  door,  but  up  the  out- 
side with  the  help  of  these  steps."  He  opened 
his  bundle.  "See,  they  fit  into  holes  in  the  wall. 
Are  you  sailor  enough  still  to  come  up  after  me 
and  bring  down  the  steps  when  I've  got  to  the 
top?" 

"Try  me,  sir.  True,  I've  only  one  leg,  but 
that's  sound ;  and  my  arms — look  at  'em,  sir." 

280 


DIAMOND    CUT   DIAMOND 

"That's  all  right.  When  you've  got  the  steps, 
hide  in  the  bushes  with  Comely  until  you  hear 
me  whistle.  Then  you'll  come  and  take  charge 
of  a  man  I  think  you'll  find  here." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Jack  mounted,  Gumley  after  him.  The  latter 
removed  the  steps  and  disappeared  into  the 
thicket,  while  Jack  closed  the  trap-door,  and  sat 
on  the  rickety  chair,  waiting. 

Hours  passed.  It  was  very  cold.  Jack  knew 
that  De  Fronsac  would  not  leave  the  Grange 
until  the  family  were  asleep ;  he  could  only  wait, 
wrapped  up  in  his  cloak,  walking  about  quietly 
at  intervals  to  keep  himself  awake. 

At  last  he  heard  a  slight  click  outside.  In- 
stantly he  concealed  himself  in  the  hole  behind 
the  bedstead,  leading  to  the  staircase.  To  insure 
the  full  success  of  his  plan  it  was  necessary  that 
the  signaler  should  make  his  preparations  undis- 
turbed. 

He  heard  some  one  enter  the  room  by  the  trap- 
door, and  immediately  afterward  saw  a  gleam  of 
light.  Peeping  out,  he  recognized  with  a  thrill 

281 


JACK    ;T 

that  the  intruder  was  De  Fronsac,  as  he  had  ex- 
pected, and  that  he  was  alone.  He  had  lit  the 
lamp,  the  glass  of  which  was  turned  away  from 
the  window;  the  long  roll  of  cardboard  and  a 
pistol  lay  beside  it.  Then  he  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  to  sea.  He  was  evidently  waiting 
for  a  signal  from  the  lugger. 

"Peste!"  he  muttered,  slapping  his  shoulders. 
"Comme  il  fait  froid!  II  est  en  retard.  Quand 
viendra-t-il?" 

Pistol  in  hand,  Jack  stepped  quietly  out  of  his 
hiding-place.  De  Fronsac  started,  swung  round, 
and  stared  with  amazement,  for  there,  in  the 
light  of  the  lamp,  stood  the  boy  he  had  kid- 
napped, and  a  pistol  was  pointed  full  at  his  head. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  it  is  I.  Stay  where 
you  are;  if  you  make  a  movement  I  shall  fire." 

The  statement  was  so  cool  and  matter-of-fact 
that  it  appeared  to  carry  conviction,  for  De 
Fronsac  arrested  his  first  instinctive  movement 
toward  his  own  pistol.  Still  covering  him  with 
his  weapon,  Jack  advanced  to  the  table,  turned 
the  lamp  so  that  the  light  fell  on  the  Frenchman, 

282 


"  If  you  make  a  movement,  I  shall  fire"    Page  282 


DIAMOND    CUT   DIAMOND 

and  lifted  the  pistol.  De  Fronsac  said  not  a 
word.  There  was  no  smile  upon  his  face  now, 
but  his  eyes  gleamed,  and  Jack  knew  that  he  was 
watching  for  the  slightest  opening.  De  Fronsac 
felt  the  rope  for  a  spy  tightening  relentlessly 
round  his  neck. 

He  glanced  toward  the  lamp,  within  a  few 
feet  of  him. 

"No,  Monsieur  De  Fronsac,"  said  Jack, 
guessing  his  wish  to  knock  it  over:  "it  really  is 
not  possible.  You  would  not  live  to  reach  the 
table.  You  will  now  go  through  the  trap-door 
and  descend  the  steps,  as  quickly  and  quietly  as 
you  can." 

The  man  hesitated;  Jack  saw  his  fingers  work 
nervously. 

"I  shall  count  three,  Monsieur.  At  the  word 
three  I  fire.  One—" 

De  Fronsac  moved  sidewise  toward  the  trap- 
door. At  the  opening  he  again  paused,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  about  to  speak.  But  Jack  gave  him 
no  opportunity. 

"Again,  Monsieur:  one — two — " 
283 


JACK   HARDY 

De  Fronsac  pulled  up  the  trap,  and  slowly 
lowered  himself  on  to  the  topmost  step. 

"Remember,  Monsieur,"  said  Jack,  before  his 
head  disappeared,  "if  you  make  the  least  un- 
necessary sound  I  shall  send  a  bullet  after  you." 

The  gleaming  eyes  disappeared.  Step  by  step 
the  Frenchman  descended.  When  he  was  a  third 
of  the  way  down  Jack  whistled  gently.  By  the 
time  De  Fronsac  reached  the  ground  Gumley 
and  Comely  were  one  on  each  side  of  him. 

"Evening,  sir,"  said  Gumley.  "Orders  are  that 
you  come  along  wi'  me — and  the  dog.  Watch 
him,  Comely." 

A  deep  growl  caused  De  Fronsac  to  start. 

"Harmless  as  a  lamb,  sir,  while  you  goes 
steady.  Bean't  'ee,  Comely?" 

The  answer  was  another  growl.  They  moved 
away,  the  dog  keeping  a  few  inches  behind  De 
Fronsac's  heels,  Gumley  with  a  naked  cutlass 
walking  at  his  right  hand. 

Even  before  they  were  out  of  sight  Jack  had 
returned  to  the  table.  There  he  had  noticed  a 
sheet  of  paper.  It  was  covered  with  figures — no 

284 


DIAMOND    CUT   DIAMOND 

doubt  the  message  that  De  Fronsac  was  prepar- 
ing to  send. 

"Wonder  if  there's  time  to  make  it  out!" 
thought  Jack.  He  looked  out  to  sea;  there  was 
no  signal  light.  With  the  aid  of  his  key  he  scrib- 
bled below  the  figures  the  corresponding  letters, 
and  read: 

NELSON  A  SUIVRE  VILLENEUVE  9 
NAVIRE  2  FREGATE  SORTENT  DE  P 
MERCREDI  BINSEY  COVE  LUNDI. 

"A  clever  villain!"  thought  Jack.  "Who 
would  ever  have  imagined  that  a  French  spy 
would  be  mixed  up  with  English  smugglers! 
And  I  wonder  how  he  gets  his  information  about 
Nelson's  doings,  and  the  sailings  of  English  con- 
voys? Well,  his  friends  will  have  rather  a  differ- 
ent message  to-night." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  paper,  and 
made  some  alterations  in  the  figures  he  had  writ- 
ten in  the  cabin  of  the  Fury. 

"If  they  like  news  of  Nelson,  they  shall  have 
some,  invented  on  the  spot!" 

285 


JACK   HARDY 

Every  now  and  then  while  writing  he  glanced 
out  to  sea  to  make  sure  that  he  did  not  miss  the 
expected  signal.  It  was  nearly  an  hour  after  he 
had  completed  his  message  that  he  caught  the 
three  successive  flashes.  Then  he  fixed  the  card- 
board, pointed  it  through  the  round  hole  in  the 
curtain,  and  signaled: 

NELSON  MOURANT  A  PALERMO  NA- 
VIRE  BRISE  PLAGE  FOWEY  CONVOI 
PETITE  CHALOUPE  BINSEY  COVE 
LUNDI. 

The  message  completed,  he  extinguished  the 
light  and  descended,  removing  the  steps  as  he 
went.  The  other  set  had  apparently  been  taken 
by  Gumley.  Wrapping  up  the  original  dozen  he 
started  for  his  long  walk  back. 

He  had  not  gone  many  paces  when  he  heard 
hurried  footsteps  behind.  Turning  round  with 
a  start,  his  hand  on  his  pistol,  he  was  amazed  to 
hear  his  name  called. 

"Jack!" 

286 


DIAMOND    CUT   DIAMOND 

The  next  instant  a  slight  figure  sprang  toward 
him. 

"Oh,  Jack!  I'm  jolly  glad,  I  am!  I  thought 
it  was  you,  but  couldn't  be  sure  till  you  came 
down.  Oh,  I  am  glad!" 

"Well,  don't  make  a  to-do,  youngster.  And 
what  brings  you  out  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"Why,  didn't  you  tell  me  months  ago  to  keep 
an  eye  on  Fronsac?  Well,  I've  done  it.  I've  fol- 
lowed him  several  nights — not  often,  'cos  mostly 
I'm  sleepy;  but  I've  never  caught  him.  He  al- 
ways disappeared,  and  I  never  knew  where  he 
went  till  to-night.  And  I  shouldn't  have  known 
now  if  I  hadn't  seen  him  climb  down  the  Folly 
and  go  off  with  old  Gumley.  Oh,  it  was  fine! 
My  eye!  wasn't  he  scared  at  the  dog!  But  what's 
it  all  mean,  Jack?  I  say,  you'll  come  along  home, 
won't  you?  They'll  all  be  so  jolly  glad  to  see 
you." 

"Not  to-night,  Arthur.  I  hope  I  shall  come 
to  see  you  all  in  a  day  or  two.  But  not  a  soul 
in  the  village  must  know  yet  that  I'm  back,  and 
the  maids  couldn't  keep  it  in.  Tell  your  father 

287 


JACK   HARDY 

I'm  here;  and  tell  him  that  De  Fronsac  is  a  dan- 
gerous spy.  We've  got  him  safe  now,  but  they 
mustn't  suspect  in  the  village.  If  any  questions 
are  asked  you  can  say  that  he  has  gone  away  for 
a  few  days,  and  will  be  back  on  Monday  night." 

aOh,  I  say,  will  they  hang  him?" 

"Of  course.  Now  cut  and  run;  you'll  catch 
your  death  of  cold,  and  the  squire  will  want  to 
hang  me." 

"Not  he.  He  likes  you.  So  does — " 

"Cut!"  said  Jack,  putting  an  end  to  Arthur's 
confidences.  The  boy  disappeared;  Jack  re- 
sumed his  walk,  and  arrived  dead  tired  at  the  inn 
at  Middleton. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  BATTLE  OF  BINSEY  COVE 

"Ah!  Patience  is  a  monument,  as  brother  Sol 
used  to  say.  Tombstone  I'd  call  it,  'cos  this  here 
waiting  about  in  the  cold'll  be  the  death  o'  me." 

"True,  Mr.  Babbage.  It  bean't  Christian,  let 
alone  decent,  to  keep  us  poor  fellers  waiting 
here." 

"Avast  your  jabber,  Mudge.  It  bean't  for  the 
likes  of  you  to  grumble  when  'tis  a  matter  o' 
dooty,  and  love  your  neighbor  as  yourself.  'Tis 
a  wonderful  fine  night,  coldish,  nat'ral  for  the 
time  o'  year.  Mr.  Hardy  didn't  make  the 
weather,  lads." 

Ben  Babbage,  with  a  boat's  crew  from  the 
Fury,  lay  off  Totley  Point,  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  west  of  Luscombe.  It  was  about  ten  at 
night.  They  had  been  for  two  hours  resting  on 
their  oars.  A  steady  breeze  blew  from  the  west- 
sou'west,  and  a  slight  swell  rocked  the  boat 

289 


JACK   HARDY 

gently.  Save  for  an  occasional  pull  to  keep  her 
head  to  the  wind  the  men  had  nothing  to  do  ex- 
cept wait  and  watch ;  and  Babbage,  however  he 
might  grumble  himself,  was  the  last  to  permit 
grumbling  in  others. 

But  it  was  certainly  a  tax  on  their  patience  to 
wait  hour  after  hour  for  a  lugger  which  was  slow 
to  appear.  Everybody  was  tired  of  inaction,  and 
hoping  for  a  signal  of  recall,  when  a  shape 
loomed  out  of  the  blackness,  passed  on  the  star- 
board side  of  the  boat,  about  two  cable  lengths 
away,  and  disappeared  shoreward. 

Babbage  lifted  a  dark  lantern  from  the  bottom 
of  the  boat;  Turley  and  Mudge  stretched  a  sheet 
of  tarpaulin  between  him  and  the  shore.  Then 
Babbage,  facing  out  to  sea,  and  keeping  the  lan- 
tern at  such  an  elevation  that  its  light  should  not 
fall  on  the  water,  rapidly  opened  and  closed  the 
shutter,  sending  one  flash  to  windward. 

"Things  is  a-going  to  happen,  mates,"  he  said, 
as  he  replaced  the  lantern.  "The  owdacious  mo- 
ment is  at  hand,  as  brother  Sol  used  to  say." 

Again  they  waited,  but  now  with  keen  expec- 
290 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

tation.  In  ten  minutes,  which  seemed  hours,  a 
dark  shape  appeared  in  the  offing.  Babbage 
making  a  bell  of  his  hands,  sent  a  low  whistle 
across  the  water;  an  order  was  given  on  the  ap- 
proaching vessel ;  the  steersman  put  up  the  helm, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  the  other  was  alongside. 

"All  well,  Babbage?"  said  Jack,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

A  rope  was  thrown  from  the  cutter  and  made 
fast  in  the  bows  of  the  boat.  Another  brief  com- 
mand; the  steersman  put  the  helm  down,  and 
the  cutter,  with  the  boat  in  tow,  followed  in  the 
wake  of  the  lugger.  At  nightfall  she  had  crept 
in  to  within  two  miles  of  the  shore,  and  sending 
out  the  long  boat  as  a  scout,  had  hove  to,  lest  her 
mast  should  betray  her. 

In  ten  minutes  the  cliffs  were  dimly  visible, 
and  Jack  recognized  the  jagged  gap  at  the  top 
that  served  as  a  landmark  in  steering  for  the 
cove.  The  cutter  headed  straight  for  the  gap. 
There  was  a  shout  from  far  up  the  cliff;  the 
Fury  had  been  sighted  by  the  lookout.  His  call 
was  answered  by  cries  from  the  beach.  On  the 

291 


JACK   HARDY 

cutter  all  the  men  lay  ready  with  musketoon, 
pistol,  and  cutlass,  except  the  few  who  had  been 
told  off  to  run  down  the  sail  when  the  word  was 
given,  and  make  the  cutter  fast  to  the  lugger 
when  she  came  alongside. 

Jack's  heart  beat  more  quickly  than  usual;  he 
felt  excited,  and  anxious,  too,  for  he  knew  that 
the  whole  crew  of  the  lugger,  probably  quite  as 
strong  as  his  own,  would  be  ready  to  repel  board- 
ers. If  they  were  joined  by  the  Luscombe  men 
who  were  receiving  the  smuggled  goods  he 
would  be  greatly  outnumbered.  Everything  de- 
pended on  the  handling  of  the  men,  and  knowing 
how  desperately  smugglers  fought  when  brought 
to  bay,  Jack  felt  the  seriousness  of  the  position. 
What  would  the  issue  be? 

While  the  boat's  crew  had  been  waiting  in  the 
cold,  strange  things  had  been  happening  at  Gum- 
ley's  cottage. 

Gumley's  method  of  guarding  De  Fronsac  was 
to  make  a  temporary  kennel  for  the  dog  outside 
the  window  of  the  front  room  in  which  the  pris- 

292 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

oner  was  lodged,  and  a  shakedown  for  himself 
by  the  door.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  properly 
intrude  upon  De  Fronsac,  who  was  a  person  of 
quality.  But  he  looked  in  at  intervals  to  see  that 
he  was  safe,  on  these  occasions  calling  Comely 
into  the  room,  to  guard  against  any  attempted 
surprise. 

De  Fronsac  had  recovered  the  use  of  his 
tongue  after  he  reached  the  cottage. 

"I  protest,  I  say  it  is  a  scandal,  an  infamy,  to 
shut  me  up  as  if  I  vere  a  t'ief.  Vat  right  have 
you?  Tell  me  dat — you — you— 

"Gumley,  my  name,  sir.  I've  got  my  orders — 
in  the  king's  name." 

"Veil,  I  vill  complain  to  de  squire ;  I  vill  make 
to  punish  you — you — Gomley!" 

"Orders  is  orders,  sir.  I  can't  say  no  more." 

Gumley  himself  was  somewhat  anxious  about 
his  charge,  for,  not  expecting  such  a  drain  on  his 
larder,  he  had  only  his  usual  provisions  for  the 
week,  and  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  leave  the 
cottage  and  procure  more.  Thursday  passed, 
Friday,  Saturday,  and  still  he  had  heard  nothing 

293 


JACK   HARDY 

from  Jack.  When  Sunday  came,  there  was  only 
a  half  loaf  of  bread  and  a  rind  of  cheese  left,  and 
these  had  to  be  shared  among  the  two  men  and 
the  dog. 

On  the  second  day  De  Fronsac  began  to  be- 
guile the  tedium  of  confinement  by  writing  po- 
etry. When  Gumley  looked  in  at  him  on  one  of 
his  periodical  visits  the  Frenchman  said: 

"You  have  not  a  bad  heart.  You  obey  orders 
of — of — of  a  monstair.  Veil,  I  read  you  vat  I 
have  now  written  about  anoder  Monstair — de 
great  villain  Monstair  vat  call  himself  Emperor 
of  de  French !  Listen !  You  vill  like  it. 

'  'De  sky  vas  blue,  de  sea  vas  green, 
All  beautiful  for  to  be  seen. 
Vy  den  am.  I  not  gay  and  glad? 
Alas!  de  Monstair  make  me  sad.' 

"Dat  is  good  beginning,  hein?" 

"Reyther  on  the  miserable  side,  don't  'ee  think, 
sir?  For  myself,  I  like  a  rum-tum-tiddlum  rolli- 
cum-rorum  sort  o'  thing." 

"VerJ  veil,  I  write  you  someting  of  dat  kind." 
294 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

Gumley  heard  nothing  more  of  this  generous 
offer  until  Monday  evening.  Then,  when  he 
went  into  De  Fronsac's  room  to  explain  with 
apologies  that  he  had  no  more  food,  the  French- 
man said: 

"No  matter  not  at  all.  Vizout  doubt  some  vun 
vill  come  to-morrow.  Be  so  good  as  give  me  a 
candle.  I  vish  to  write  de  poesy  I  speak  of." 

Gumley  saw  no  reason  for  not  humoring  so 
harmless  a  hobby,  and  brought  the  lighted  can- 
dle. But  a  couple  of  hours  later  he  was  awakened 
from  his  sleep  at  the  locked  door  by  a  smell  of 
burning.  He  soon  satisfied  himself  that  it  came 
from  the  prisoner's  room,  and  opened  the  door. 

aHa!  I  see  you!"  said  De  Fronsac.  "I  am  al- 
most burnt  alive.  I  am  writing  my  poesy  ven — 
voilaf  de  candle  overfalls  and  burns  a  hole  in  de 
table-carpet.  See  it!  I  put  out  de  fire,  easy;  but 
it  make  much  smoke.  I  fear  it  vake  you ;  pardon, 
my  good  Gomley." 

"Granted,  sir,  ready.  If  I  was  you  I'd  go  to 
sleep  now  and  do  your  writing  stuff  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

295 


"So  I  vill,"  was  the  response.  "Pardon!  I  vill 

.    „ 
not  vake  you  again. 

Gumley  returned  to  his  shakedown  and  was 
soon  fast  asleep. 

Nearly  two  hours  later  he  was  wakened  by  a 
growl  from  the  dog  outside.  He  got  up,  opened 
the  outer  door,  and  found  Comely  trying  to  get 
up  to  the  shuttered  window  of  De  Fronsac's 
room. 

"Don't  like  his  poetry  any  more  than  me,  don't 
'ee?  Come  in.  We'll  tell  him  'tis  time  he  was 
abed." 

He  closed  the  door  when  the  dog  had  entered, 
and  together  they  went  into  the  prisoner's  room. 
There  was  still  a  good  deal  of  smoke  in  it — but 
no  Frenchman. 

"Ahoy!"  cried  Gumley. 

But  the  dog  made  a  dash  back  to  the  front 
door,  and,  when  Gumley  followed  and  opened  it, 
rushed  growling  down  the  garden,  where  he  was 
brought  up  by  the  high  fence.  Seizing  his  cut- 
lass, Gumley  stumped  as  fast  as  he  could  to  the 
gate. 

296 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

"Chok'  it  all!"  he  muttered.  "This  is  what 
comes  o'  losing  a  leg  in  the  king's  name." 

It  took  some  little  time  to  draw  the  bolts  and 
unlock  the  gate,  and  when  the  old  sailor  got  out 
into  the  road  the  fugitive  was  out  of  sight.  But 
Gumley  thought  he  heard  a  man  running  down 
the  cliff  path  to  the  village.  Without  hesitation 
he  started  in  pursuit,  whistling  Comely  to  his 
side.  Never  had  that  wooden  leg  moved  so  fast; 
but  with  all  his  exertion  his  pace  did  not  exceed 
that  of  a  quick  walk.  He  was  half-way  down  the 
path  when  he  heard  shots  in  the  distance. 
Hurrying  still  more,  he  came  to  the  village  just 
in  time  to  see  a  group  of  men  rushing  out  at  the 
other  end,  and  caught  the  words  "Sandy  Cove!" 

"Fire  and  brimstone!"  he  muttered.  "This  is 
a  desperate  go,  Comely.  Come  on,  my  lad." 

And  he  stumped  on  gamely  through  the  de- 
serted street. 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  brisk  doings  at 
Sandy  Cove.  When  Jack  judged  that  he  was 
only  a  couple  pf  cable-lengths  from  the  lugger, 

297 


JACK   HARDY 

he  cast  off  the  long-boat  with  Babbage  and  his 
men.  They,  resting  on  their  oars,  allowed  it  to 
drift  slowly  in  while  the  cutter  disappeared  into 
the  darkness. 

A  few  moments  later  Jack  gave  the  word.  The 
sail  was  run  down.  A  round  shot  from  the  lug- 
ger whistled  across  the  Fury's  bows.  Another 
few  seconds ;  then,  amid  furious  shouts,  the  cut- 
ter came  against  the  larboard  quarter  of  the  lug- 
ger with  a  bump  that  caused  the  men  on  both 
craft  to  stagger.  The  Fury's  bowsprit  fouled  the 
lugger's  shrouds  and  hooked  fast.  Instantly  half 
a  dozen  grapnels  were  out,  and  the  two  vessels 
were  closely  interlocked. 

There  was  a  deafening  discharge  of  small 
arms  from  the  deck  of  the  lugger,  but  as  most  of 
the  Fury's  men  were  lying  down  awaiting  the 
order  to  board,  and  the  volley  was  fired  at  ran- 
dom in  almost  total  darkness,  hardly  any  dam- 
age was  done.  But  the  master  of  the  lugger  was 
clearly  a  man  of  action,  for  the  echo  of  the  shots 
had  scarcely  come  back  from  the  cliffs  when  he 
gave  a  loud  order  in  French,  and  the  smugglers 

298 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

swarmed  over  the  bulwarks,  intending  to  jump 
on  to  the  deck  of  the  cutter  a  foot  or  two  below. 

"Fire!" 

The  word  rang  out  sharp  and  clear  above  the 
shouts  of  the  Frenchmen.  Their  dark  forms 
stood  out  clearly  against  the  starlight;  they  were 
only  a  few  feet  from  the  muzzles  of  the  English- 
men's muskets;  and  when  at  Jack's  command  the 
volley  flashed,  the  front  line  of  the  smugglers 
disappeared  as  if  struck  by  a  thunderbolt. 

With  a  loud  cheer  the  English  sailors,  drop- 
ping their  muskets,  seized  cutlass  and  pistol  and 
dashed  through  the  smoke,  each  man  eager  to  be 
first  on  the  enemy's  deck.  They  needed  no  en- 
couragement; most  of  them  had  a  score  to  pay 
off  for  their  defeat  at  the  same  spot  in  the  previ- 
ous autumn.  While  the  Frenchmen  were  still 
half  stunned  by  the  scorching  fire  and  the  loss  of 
so  many  of  their  comrades,  Jack's  men  gained  a 
footing  on  the  deck. 

But  now  the  French  skipper's  voice  could  be 
heard  rallying  his  crew,  and  the  boarders  were 
met  by  a  serried  mass  armed  with  pistols  and 

299 


JACK   HARDY 

boarding  pikes.  And  among  the  Frenchmen 
there  was  now  a  sprinkling  of  Englishmen,  for 
the  smugglers  on  shore  had  rushed  over  the  gang- 
way to  their  comrades  thus  hotly  beset.  Now  a 
furious  hand-to-hand  fight  raged  about  the  lug- 
ger's stern.  Great  was  the  clamor  as  steel  clashed 
on  steel,  pistols  barked,  hoarse  voices  roared  en- 
couragement or  defiance,  wounded  men  groaned. 
Again  and  again  Jack  and  his  men  were  flung 
back  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers  against  the 
lugger's  bulwarks ;  again  and  again  they  rallied 
and  forced  the  enemy  across  the  deck.  No  room 
here  for  fine  weapon-play;  men  cut  and  thrust  at 
random,  met,  grappled,  flung  away  cutlass  and 
pike  to  set  to  with  nature's  own  weapons.  Many 
a  Frenchman  fell  under  the  sledge-hammer 
blows  of  British  sailors'  fists. 

Jack  had  no  clear  recollection  afterward  of 
the  details  of  the  fight.  At  one  moment  he  found 
himself  leading  a  rush  of  his  own  men,  pressing 
the  enemy  back  foot  by  foot  until  only  a  last  des- 
perate effort  seemed  wanting  to  drive  them  over- 
board. Then  would  come  a  check;  a  hoarse 

300 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY    COVE 

shout  from  the  skipper,  whom  Jack  by  and  by 
distinguished  in  the  melee — a  huge  fellow  of 
reckless  courage;  the  tide  turned,  the  smugglers 
rallied  gamely,  and  Jack  and  his  men,  stub- 
bornly as  they  fought,  were  borne  back  and  back, 
losing  inch  by  inch  the  ground  they  had  so 
hardly  gained. 

It  was  at  one  of  these  desperate  moments  that 
Jack  heard  at  last  the  sound  for  which,  through- 
out the  struggle,  he  had  been  anxiously  waiting. 
From  the  forefront  of  the  lugger  came  a  sudden 
rousing  British  cheer.  There  was  a  rush  of  feet 
in  the  rear  of  the  smugglers,  and  in  a  second,  as 
it  seemed  to  Jack,  the  deck  in  front  of  him  was 
clear.  Ben  Babbage  had  arrived.  Carrying  out 
orders  given  him  previously,  he  had  brought  the 
long-boat  unseen  to  the  starboard  side  of  the  lug- 
ger, and,  before  the  Frenchmen  were  aware  of 
his  presence,  he  was  on  deck,  with  Turley, 
Mudge,  Folkard,  and  half  a  dozen  other  trusty 
shipmates. 

Beset  now  in  both  front  and  rear,  the  French- 
men lost  heart.  Suddenly  they  made  a  rush  for 

301 


JACK    HARDY 

the  gangway  connecting  the  lugger  with  the 
land,  and  swarmed  helter-skelter  across,  not  a 
few  stumbling  over  the  edge  and  falling  souse 
into  the  water. 

"Huzzay!  huzzay!"  shouted  the  panting  Eng- 
lishmen, as  they  saw  the  enemy  in  flight. 

But  they  were  answered  by  a  loud  and  con- 
fident cheer  from  the  beach,  and  in  the  momen- 
tary silence  that  ensued  they  heard  the  rapid 
tramp  of  a  large  body  of  men  hurrying  over  the 
shingle.  Immediately  afterward  they  saw  the 
fugitives  halt,  and  rush  back,  largely  reinforced, 
to  the  gangway,  led  by  the  indomitable  captain. 
On  they  came,  tumbling  into  the  water  three  or 
four  of  the  Englishmen  who  had  started  in  pur- 
suit and  were  making  for  the  shore. 

The  gangway,  consisting  of  four  stout  planks 
laid  side  by  side,  was  wide,  and  gave  foothold  for 
a  throng  at  once.  Jack  and  Babbage  collected 
their  men  at  the  lugger's  bulwarks  to  meet  this 
new  attack.  And  the  former,  amazed  at  this  sud- 
den turning  of  the  tables,  was  still  more  amazed 
to  see  beside  the  French  skipper  the  slighter 

302 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

form  of  Monsieur  de  Fronsac.  Even  at  the  mo- 
ment of  recognition  De  Fronsac's  pistol  flashed; 
the  bullet  glanced  off  Jack's  cutlass  within  an 
inch  of  his  body,  and  embedded  itself  in  the 
mast  behind  him. 

The  two  forces  came  together  with  a  shock. 
Babbage  dropped  his  cutlass  and  flung  his 
powerful  arms  around  the  skipper.  They 
swayed  for  a  moment,  then  fell  together  with  a 
tremendous  splash  into  the  water.  De  Fronsac 
had  dropped  his  pistol,  and  made  for  Jack  with 
a  cutlass.  Jack  parried  his  furious  cut,  and  be- 
fore he  could  recover  replied  with  a  rapid  and 
dexterous  thrust  that  found  the  Frenchman's 
forearm.  With  wonderful  quickness  De  Fron- 
sac shifted  his  weapon  from  the  right  to  the  left 
hand,  and,  shouting  encouragement  to  the  men 
beside  and  behind  him,  pressed  forward  indomi- 
tably. 

At  the  same  moment  there  was  a  rush  of  feet 
from  the  bows  of  the  lugger.  Her  bowsprit  came 
within  easy  reach  of  the  rocky  ledge,  and  a  num- 
ber of  the  smugglers  had  sprung  on  to  it,  scram- 

3°3 


JACK   HARDY 

bled  along,  and  flung  themselves  on  the  flank  of 
the  defenders.  Turley  and  others  at  Jack's  right 
turned  to  meet  this  new  danger;  but  the  enemy 
had  gained  a  firm  foothold  on  the  foredeck,  and 
the  fight  once  more  became  general. 

Jack,  fighting  grimly  with  Mudge  and  Folk- 
ard  at  the  head  of  the  gangway,  felt  with  a 
dreadful  sinking  at  the  heart  that  the  tide  of  bat- 
tle was  turning  overwhelmingly  against  him.  It 
seemed  only  too  likely  that  he  must  either  take 
to  the  cutter  and  escape,  or  remain  to  be  killed 
or  captured.  But  at  this  moment  there  was  a  sud- 
den uproar  at  the  far  end  of  the  gangway;  the 
cries  he  heard  were  unmistakably  cries  of  dis- 
may. The  throng  of  men  pressing  from  the  shore 
to  the  lugger  wavered ;  their  rear  was  being  at- 
tacked; the  preventives  must  be  upon  them!  So 
sudden  and  unexpected  was  the  onslaught  that 
they  lost  their  heads;  their  confidence  changed 
to  panic,  and  as  one  man  they  made  off,  spring- 
ing into  the  shallow  water  to  right  and  left,  and 
scurrying  away  into  the  darkness. 

"Have  at  'em,  Comely !  Have  at  'em,  my  lad !" 
3°4 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

The  words  rang  clear  above  all  the  din ;  and 
ever  and  anon  came  a  short  yelping  bark — the 
unmistakable  war-cry  of  a  bulldog.  Jack  felt  a 
wonderful  lightness  of  heart  as  the  sounds  came 
to  him  out  of  the  dark.  Then  the  press  in  front 
of  him  melted  as  by  ma^gic,  and  through  the  gap 
so  quickly  made  stumped  Gumley,  wielding  his 
cutlass  like  a  flail,  and  shouting  with  the  regular- 
ity of  a  minute-gun : 

"Have  at  'em,  Comely  I  Have  at  'em,  my  lad!" 

Two  men  remained  on  the  gangway,  refusing 
to  be  intimidated  by  the  tumult  in  their  rear; 
nay  more,  adjuring  the  fugitives  to  stand  fast. 
One  was  Monsieur  de  Fronsac,  the  other  Kit 
Lamiger,  the  chief  Luscombe  smuggler,  father 
of  {he  lad  whom  Jack  had  fought. 

The  uproar,  the  flight,  the  appearance  of 
Gumley  and  the  dog,  all  happened  in  such  rapid 
succession  and  amid  such  a  clamor  that  to  Jack 
the  events  seemed  to  take  place  in  one  crowded 
moment.  As  the  last  of  the  panic-stricken  smug- 
glers jumped  sidewise  from  the  gangway  on  to 
the  rocks,  De  Fronsac,  hearing  Gumley's  voice 

305 


JACK   HARDY 

behind  him,  took  a  rapid  step  forward  in  a  last 
desperate  endeavor  to  dispose  of  Jack.  But  the 
middy  marked  his  purpose.  There  was  no  time 
for  deliberation.  The  Frenchman,  wielding  his 
cutlass  as  well  with  his  left  hand  as  with  his 
right,  made  a  fierce  cut  at  Jack.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  threw  up  his  arms  without  a  sound  and 
fell  backward  across  the  gangway  into  the  space 
between  the  lugger  and  the  rocks.  Jack's  blade 
had  pierced  him  through. 

Meanwhile  Kit  Lamiger  had  found  himself 
seized  below  in  the  vise-like  grip  of  Comely's 
jaws.  Struggling  to  free  himself,  he  fell  into  the 
arms  of  Gumley,  who,  with  a  cry  of  "In  the 
king's  name,  shipmate!"  swung  him  round, 
threw  him  on  to  the  shingle,  and  bade  the  bull- 
dog watch  him. 

The  fight  was  over. 

"Ahoy,  Gumley!  Come  aboard!"  shouted 
Jack. 

Gumley  stumped  across  the  gangway,  and  this 
was  drawn  on  to  the  lugger's  deck.  Jack  in- 
tended to  work  the  vessels  out  for  a  little  distance 

306 


THE    BATTLE   OF   BINSEY   COVE 

until  there  was  no  chance  of  being  attacked  ex- 
cept by  boats,  for  he  knew  that  he  was  still  out- 
numbered. But  just  as  he  was  preparing  to  cast 
off  there  came  a  loud  hail  from  the  beach,  and 
immediately  afterward  Mr.  Goodman  rushed  up 
at  the  head  of  a  force  of  preventive  men. 

"Just  in  time,  Mr.  Hardy!"  panted  he. 

"A  little  late,  Mr.  Goodman,"  replied  Jack. 
"I  expected  you  some  time  ago.  The  fight  is 


over." 


"Dash  my  buttons!"  cried  the  mortified  officer. 
"  'Tis  my  confounded  ill-luck.  I  should  have 
been  here,  but  I  got  another  note  a  few  hours  ago 
that  I  had  to  attend  to." 

"Anonymous,  Mr.  Goodman?" 

"Yes,  anonymous  as  usual,  hang  it  all!  I  came 
up  when  I  heard  the  firing.  I  see  you've  got  the 
lugger,  sir.  Our  scheme  worked  out  to  the  let- 


ter." 


"To  the  anonymous  note,  eh,  Mr.  Goodman? 
Well,  we've  good  news  for  the  admiral  to-mor- 
row. And  as  you've  a  good  number  of  your  men 
here,  I'll  go  ashore  and  step  up  to  the  Grange. 

307 


JACK   HARDY 

I  want  to  see  my  cousin.  Turley,  where's  Bab- 

bage?" 

"Never  seed  him,  sir,  since  he  went  overboard 
with  the  French  skipper." 

"Well,  I  must  leave  you  in  charge,  then.  The 
poor  fellow's  drowned,  I  fear." 

"No,  sir,"  shouted  a  voice  from  the  beach. 

"Who's  that?" 

"Me,  sir,  Babbage  as  was." 

"All  sound?" 

"And  fury,  as  brother  Sol  used  to  say.  Me 
and  the  French  skipper  fell  overboard  together, 
me  on  top.  He  drownded  hisself,  sir,  'cos  he 
wouldn't  let  go.  When  I  come  up,  some  o'  they 
fellers  bowled  me  over  like  a  ninepin,  and  my 
senses  was  fair  knocked  out  o'  me.  Next  thing 
I  knowed  I  heard  you  a-saying  I  were  drownd- 
ed, sir.  Not  so,  nor  never  even  seasick." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you're  safe.  Come  aboard. 
We'll  see  what  damage  is  done  here,  and  then 
I'll  go  ashore,  and  we'll  get  a  doctor  from  Wick- 
ham  Ferrers  to  attend  to  trie  poor  fellows  who 
are  wounded." 

308 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SOME  APPOINTMENTS 

Jack  had  but  just  reached  the  road  above  the 
cliff  when  he  was  somewhat  startled  to  hear  the 
regular  clickety-click  of  a  large  number  of 
horses  trotting  toward  him.  And  surely,  amid 
the  clatter  of  their  hoofs,  there  was  the  clash  of 
steel ! 

He  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  road,  waiting.  In 
a  few  moments,  round  the  corner  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Wickham,  came  two  horsemen  at  a  rapid 
trot,  and  behind  them  a  troop,  whose  polished 
accoutrements  gleamed  in  the  light  of  the  rising 
moon. 

They  rode  on  rapidly,  and  Jack  had  just  rec- 
ognized the  uniform  of  the  Dorsetshire  yeo- 
manry when  the  officer  at  their  head  caught 
sight  of  him,  shouted  "Halt!"  and  reined  up  his 
horse  on  its  haunches. 

309 


JACK   HARDY 

"Where  are  they,  my  lad?"  he  asked  in  a  tone 
of  subdued  excitement. 

"Who,  Cousin  Humfrey?" 

"Eh!  Who  are  you?  Why,  bless  me,  'tis  Jack! 
Where  are  the  ruffians?" 

"Who,  cousin?" 

"Why,  the  French!  Have  they  got  a  footing?" 

"Most  of  'em  a  wetting,  cousin.  But  we've 
beat  the  whole  crew  and  got  the  lugger." 

"The  lugger!  Hang  the  lugger!  What  about 
the  praams?" 

"The  praams!"  Jack  was  puzzled;  then  a 
light  dawned  on  him  and  he  began  to  laugh. 

"Come,  come,  'tis  no  joke.  Are  they  beaten 
back?" 

"Oh,  cousin,  no  joke!  Did  you  really  think  it 
was  Boney?  Oh,  I  can't  help  it;  excuse  me, 


cousin." 


It  came  out  that  Mr.  Bastable  had  been  awak- 
ened by  one  of  his  men,  who  declared  that  he 
heard  cannons  firing  most  horribly,  and  was  sure 
'twas  Boney  had  come  over  at  last.  The  squire 
got  up,  sent  a  rider  post-haste  to  Wickham  Fer- 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

rers  for  his  troop  of  yeomen,  and  hurried  into 
his  uniform,  which  he  kept  always  at  hand  by 
his  bedside. 

"And  here  we  are,  my  lad,  in  an  hour  from 
the  first  alarm.  There's  quick  work  for  you. 
But  I'm  glad  'tis  no  worse  than  a  brush  with 
smugglers.  'Twas  a  false  alarm,  my  lads,"  he 
added,  turning  to  his  men.  "Boney  has  thought 
better  of  it.  Didn't  care  to  tackle  us  Dorset  men. 
You  can  get  back  and  sleep  sound.  Now  Jack, 
you'll  come  with  me  to  the  Grange.  Arthur  told 
me  he'd  seen  you — the  young  rascal,  stealing  out 
at  dead  of  night!  But  a  good  plucked  'un  too, 
eh,  Jack?" 

"A  chip  of  the  old  block,  cousin.  Just  the  sort 
of  fellow  we  middies  like." 

"And  that  villain  De  Fronsac,  now!  What  of 
him?" 

"He's  dead,  cousin,"  said  Jack  gravely. 

"Ha!  He's  got  his  deserts.  The  villain,  play- 
ing his  double  game  for  eighteen  months  in  my 
house!  And  his  humbug  about  the  Monster,  too. 
It  makes  me  red  in  the  face  when  I  think  of  it. 

3" 


But  you  must  tell  me  all  about  it  when  we  get 
home." 

They  found  the  Grange  almost  in  a  state  of 
siege.  The  windows  were  close-shuttered,  the 
doors  were  double  locked,  and  when  Mr.  Bas- 
table  rapped,  the  voice  of  old  William,  the 
gardener,  was  heard,  threatening  in  accents  of 
unmistakable  terror  that  he'd  b-blow  out  the 
b-b-brains  of  any  Frenchman  with  his  b-b-blun- 
derbuss.  When  admittance  was  obtained,  shrieks 
were  heard  from  the  top  of  the  house. 

"The  maids  in  hysterics!"  growled  the  squire. 
"Here,  Molly  and  Betty,"  he  shouted,  "don't  be 
a  couple  of  geese.  'Tis  not  Boney — 'tis  Master 
Jack!" 

A  door  above  flew  open;  Kate  anH  Arthur 
came  bounding  down  the  stairs,  with  Mrs.  Bas- 
table  a  pace  or  two  behind  them. 

"Lawk  a  mussy!  Only  to  think  o't,  now!"  gig- 
gled Molly  above.  "Measter  Jack!  Well,  I 
never  did!" 

Kate  impulsively  threw  her  arms  round  Jack's 
neck  .and  kissed  him  heartily.  A  middy  is  not 

312 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

easily  taken  by  surprise,  but  Jack  was  only  just 
in  time  to  return  the  kiss  before  Mrs.  Bastable 
came  and  encircled  him. 

"My  dear  boy,  this  is  delightful." 

"So  it  is,  cousin — if  it  wasn't  so  smothery  1" 

"Mothery!"  shouted  the  squire  in  high  good 
humor.  "Now,  you'll  come  along  to  my  den  and 
tell  me  all  about  everything  that's  happened 
since  you  were  kidnapped  by  those  villains,  con- 
found them!" 

"But  my  dear  Humfrey,  Jack  looks  dead- 
beat." 

"We'll  cure  that  by  any  by.  The  fire  isn't  out; 
we'll  make  it  up ;  and  I'm  sure  you  women  won't 
sleep  a  wink  till  you've  heard  the  story." 

"Hurray!"  shouted  Arthur,  capering. 

So  they  trooped  into  the  snuggery,  and  there 
Jack,  fortified  with  a  glass  of  hot  cordial  brought 
by  Molly,  related  his  adventures  from  the  time 
when  he  was  carried  to  France  against  his  will. 

"There  are  two  things  I  can't  make  out,"  he 
said  in  conclusion.  "One  is,  how  Gudgeon  is 
mixed  up  in  this.  'Twas  his  boat,  I'm  sure,  that 


JACK   HARDY 

carried  me  in  the  tub  to  the  lugger;  and  he  drove 
to  Gumley's  the  other  night  to  hear  what  had 
been  done.  Where  does  he  come  in,  cousin?" 

Mr.  Bastable  laughed  a  little  awkwardly. 

"Go  to  bed,  Arthur,"  he  said. 

"I  know,  father,"  said  the  boy,  grinning. 

"You  do,  do  you,  you  young  rascal!  Well, 
Jack,  I'll  tell  you.  Gudgeon  is  a  sly  old  dog. 
He's  the  smuggler  hereabouts — but  behind  the 
scenes.  His  smoking  chimney  was  the  signal  by 
day,  as  Fronsac's,  it  seems,  was  by  night.  But  he's 
not  a  traitor;  he  knew  nothing  of  Fronsac's  dou- 
ble scheme,  I  warrant.  He's  a  smuggler  simply. 
Why,  Jack,  he  has  supplied  me  with  smuggled 
brandy  for  years ;  so  he  does  the  parson  at  Wick- 
ham.  The  stuff  you're  drinking  was  smuggled; 
the  lace  your  cousin  Sylvia  is  wearing  came  from 
Valenciennes,  and  paid  no  duty.  I'm  afraid  I 
must  give  it  up  now,  my  boy.  There's  not  a 
squire  on  the  seaboard  but  thinks  it  no  harm ;  but 
with  a  cousin  a  gallant  king's  officer — yes,  I  must 
give  it  up."  He  sighed.  "And  I  think  I'd  better 
go  and  see  Gudgeon  in  the  morning." 

3H 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

"He'll  be  transported,  as  sure  as  a  gun,"  said 
Jack. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  we'll  go  that  length.  You 
can't  prove  anything  against  him,  you  see.  He's 
too  sly  for  that — and — well,  it  might  be  awk- 
ward for  more  than  one  of  us." 

"All  right,  cousin,"  said  Jack,  laughing.  "But 
there's  another  thing.  That  fellow  who  was 
wounded  in  the  Hollow!  De  Fronsac  shot  him, 
I'm  sure;  I  never  told  you  that  Arthur  and  I 
saw  him  bundled  into  a  lugger  that  night  we 
followed  De  Fronsac  from  the  house." 

"That's  a  mystery.  I  can't  explain  it.  And  it 
doesn't  matter  much,  now  that  De  Fronsac  is 
gone.  By  George,  Jack!  I  fancy  you've  killed 
smuggling  at  Luscombe — for  some  time,  at  any 
rate.  Now  to  bed.  We'll  have  another  talk  in 
the  morning." 

Jack  was  up  early,  in  spite  of  the  lateness  of 
the  hour  when  he  went  to  bed.  He  was  at  break- 
fast alone  with  Mr.  Bastable  when  Mr.  Good- 
man was  announced. 

"Good   morning,   sir.    Good   morning,   Mr. 


JACK   HARDY 

Hardy.  I've  come  to  you  as  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
Mr.  Bastable.  You've  heard  of  our  little  exploit 
last  night?" 

"You  were  in  at  the  death,  I  believe.  Well, 
sir?" 

"Well,  sir,  we  went  to  the  Hollow  this  morn- 
ing to  seize  the  goods  we  understood  were  hidden 
there.  In  the  summer-house  we  found  a  man, 
sir;  I  have  him  outside  now.  He  tried  to  run 
away;  but  we  collared  him,  and  as  he  wouldn't 
give  an  account  of  himself  I've  brought  him 
along.  Perhaps  you'll  commit  him  as  a  rogue 
and  vagabond." 

"Bring  him  in,  Mr.  Goodman." 

The  riding-officer  returned  with  a  heavy,  un- 
dersized, beetle-browed  fellow,  in  very  tattered 
garb. 

"Why,  'tis  the  very  man!"  cried  Jack.  "This 
is  the  man  De  Fronsac  shot." 

"De  Fronsac!"  growled  the  man,  with  gleam- 
ing eyes.  "Where  is  he?" 

"No  longer  in  this  world,  my  man,"  said  Mr. 
Bastable.  "Now,  who  are  you?  Give  a  good 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

account  of  yourself,  or  I  shall  have  to  commit 
you." 

The  man  showed  no  hesitation  now.  He  ex- 
plained that  he  had  been  employed  in  London 
by  a  French  family  through  whom  De  Fronsac 
obtained  much  of  the  information  he  signaled  to 
France.  Having  discovered  this  fact,  he  had 
come  down  to  Luscombe  to  levy  blackmail  on  the 
spy;  the  consequences  were  as  Jack  had  related. 
He  had  returned  to  England — there  were  means 
of  coming  and  going  between  the  two  countries 
even  in  that  time  of  war — to  wreak  vengeance 
on  De  Fronsac,  and  was  lying  in  wait  at  the  sum- 
mer-house when  the  preventives  appeared  on  the 

• 

scene. 

"There's  your  mystery  unraveled,"  said  Mr. 
Bastable,  turning  to  Jack.  Then  to  the  French- 
man he  said:  "We'll  send  you  off  to  London, 
my  man;  'tis  for  folk  there  to  deal  with  you." 

After  breakfast,  Jack  walked  over  to  Gumley's 
cottage.  He  wanted  to  know  how  De  Fronsac 
had  escaped,  and  was  prepared  to  read  Gumley 
a  lecture  for  his  lax  guardianship.  But  he  found 


JACK   HARDY 

the  old  sailor  so  desperately  upset  at  the  trick 
played  upon  him,  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to 
add  to  his  chagrin. 

"Only  to  think  of  it,  sir!"  said  Gumley,  thump- 
ing the  table.  "Poetry!  All  my  eye  and  Betty 
Martin!  Why,  when  he  got  that  there  candle,  he 
stood  upon  this  here  table" — another  thump — 
"and  burned  away  the  ends  o'  the  matchboards 
up  aloft  where  they  was  nailed  to  the  beams. 
No  wonder  I  smelled  smoke!  And  he  showed 
me  a  hole  in  the  tablecloth!  Then  he  pried  up 
the  boards,  got  up  into  the  attic,  out  by  the  trap- 
door on  to  the  roof,  and  when  Comely  and  me 
was  a-nosing  round  here  in  the  smoke,  chok'  it 
all!  Mounseer  was  down  the  rain-pipe  and  un- 
der full  sail  for  the  road.  Never  have  I  bin  so 
done  afore,  sir,  and  in  the  king's  name,  too." 

"Never  mind,  Joe.  You  came  after  him  like 
a  Briton,  and  if  you  and  Comely  hadn't  arrived 
on  the  scene  when  you  did,  I'm  afraid  there 
would  have  been  a  different  story  to  tell  the  ad- 
miral to-day.  I'm  going  to  Portsmouth  this  aft- 
ernoon, And  I'll  take  care  the  admiral  knows 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

about  your  pluck  and  your  stanchness  as  a  king's 
man  under  persecution." 

"Thank  'ee  kindly,  sir.  And  you  won't  forget 
to  say  a  word  for  Comely,  sir?" 

"Not  I.  Comely  and  Gumley — a  fine  pair  of 
warriors.  Good-by." 

When  Jack  got  back  to  the  Grange,  he  found 
that  the  squire  had  paid  his  promised  visit  to 
Mr.  Gudgeon.  Mr.  Bastable  laughed  as  he  re- 
lated the  interview. 

"He  had  the  flutters  very  badly,  Jack.  I  put 
it  to  him  as  delicately  as  I  could.  Said  that  re- 
cent events  had  given  the  neighborhood  a  bad 
name,  especially  as  it  had  been  found  that  some 
one  had  been  selling  information  to  the  French. 
Suspicion  might  easily  fall  on  the  wrong  person, 
I  said ;  and  I  wound  up  by  suggesting  that  when 
next  winter  comes  he  should  see  that  his  chim- 
neys are  swept  regularly.  The  old  rascal!  'Oh 
dear  me!'  says  he,  'to  think  that  a  quiet  law- 
abiding  village  like  Luscombe  should  have  har- 
bored a  French  spy!  It  puts  me  in  a  terrible 
flutter,  Cognac  is  the  best  cure  I  know,  sir; 


JACK   HARDY 

maybe  you'll  do  me  the  honor  to  take  a  sip  wtih 
me?'  and  the  rascal  gave  me  a  glass,  Jack;  con- 
traband— capital  stuff!" 

"He'll  be  careful  in  future,  I  reckon,  cousin. 
I  must  run  over  to  Portsmouth  after  lunch  and 
report  to  Admiral  Horniman.  I  suppose  I'd  bet- 
ter keep  Gudgeon's  name  out?" 

"Certainly,  my  lad.  You've  snuffed  out  smug- 
gling here — for  the  present;  it  is  bound  to  begin 
again  some  day;  but  you  may  depend  upon  it 
that  for  a  long  time  to  come  we're  all  king's  men 
here,  Gudgeon  included." 

It  was  a  fortnight  before  Jack  returned  to  the 
Grange.  Then  he  came  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment. 

"Admiral  Horniman  is  a  jolly  old  brick!"  he 
cried,  after  greeting  his  cousins.  "What  do  you 
think  he's  done?" 

"Resigned  in  your  favor,  Jack?" 

"Pretty  nearly!"  returned  Jack  with  a  laugh. 
"No,  he's  written  up  a  thumping  report  to  the 
lords  of  the  Admiralty,  and  got  'em  to  'do  a  thing 
that's  as  rare  as — as — " 

320 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

"As  Jack  Hardys.  Well!" 

"Why,  to  let  me  off  three  years'  service  as  a 
mid,  and  also  the  examination  for  lieutenant. 
Look  here!  here's  my  commission!"  He  flour- 
ished a  paper,  and  cried  for  three  cheers  for  Ad- 
miral Horniman.  "And  that's  not  all.  I've  got 
no  end  of  prize-money  for  capturing  the  French 
brig,  and  retaking  the  Fury,  and  collaring  the 
smugglers'  stuff.  My  share  alone  comes  to  over 
a  thousand  pounds.  And  they've  taken  two 
French  privateers  and  sunk  another  off  Fowey. 
The  signals  worked  splendidly;  they  were  try- 
ing to  cut  out  a  disabled  ship  that  wasn't  there ! 
The  admiral's  going  to  put  in  a  claim  to  prize- 
money  for  me.  He  is  a  brick!" 

"Oh,  I  say!"  cried  Arthur.  "Don't  I  wish  I 
was  you !" 

"I'm  glad  for  dad's  sake.  He  hasn't  been  over 
well  off  since  he  had  to  retire  from  the  East 
India  Company's  service,  owing  to  that  wretched 
illness  of  his,  and  I'm  afraid  he  had  to  pinch  a 
bit  for  me.  But  now  that's  all  changed.  I  shan't 
cost  him  another  penny  piece." 

321 


JACK   HARDY 

"Bravo!  Arthur,  you  young  dog,  remember 
that,  and  hand  over  a  thousand  pounds  to  me 
when  I'm  bound  for  the  poorhouse.  Well,  Jack, 
I  congratulate  you,  my  boy." 

"But  that's  not  all,  cousin.  I've  kept  the  best 
for  the  last.  Open  your  eyes!  I'm  appointed  to 
the  Victory f  and  sail  to  join  Nelson  in  a  week! 
Won't  we  pepper  the  French!  Won't  we  win  a 
glorious  victory!  Oh!  cousin,  isn't  it  the  finest 
thing  in  the  world  to  serve  your  king  and  coun- 
try!" 

"If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  putting 
his  head  in  at  the  door,  "Joe  Gumley  is  outside, 
asking  for  Mr.  Hardy." 

"Show  him  in,"  cried  Mr.  Bastable. 

"Arternoon,  sir,"  said  Gumley,  stumping  in 
with  the  bulldog  at  his  heels.  He  held  his  glazed 
hat  clumsily,  and  looked  not  quite  at  ease.  "I  be 
come  over  for  two  things,  Squire;  number  one, 
to  say  thank'ee  to  Mr.  Hardy;  number  two,  to 
axe  a  question." 

"Never  mind  about  number  one,  Gumley," 
said  Jack.  "Heave  away  at  number  two." 

322 


SOME   APPOINTMENTS 

"Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  one  always  comes 
afore  two,  and  ye  can't  alter  nature.  I  take  it 
kindly,  sir,  and  I  thank  'ee  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart,  for  your  goodness  to  a'  old  mariner 
what  has  only  one  leg  sound  and  rheumatiz  in 
both.  Here  I've  got,  sir,  a  paper,  and  as  near 
as  I  can  make  it  out — 'tis  terrible  writing  for  a 
admiral,  to  be  sure — Admiral  Horniman  says  he 
has  great  pleasure  in  app'inting  Joseph  Gumley 
watchman  at  the  dockyard,  ten  shillings  a  week, 
cottage  and  rum  free.  I  know  who  done  that: 
Admiral  Horniman  would  never  ha'  heard  o' 
Joe  Gumley  but  for  Mr.  Hardy.  God  bless  'ee, 
sir,  for  remembering  of  a  poor  wooden-legged 
old  sailor  what  had  to  take  to  growing  artichokes 
and  other  landlubbers'  thingummies  in  the 
king's  name." 

"The  admiral  couldn't  have  found  a  better 
man,"  said  Mr.  Bastable,  to  cover  Jack's  confu- 
sion. "But  what's  number  two?" 

"Number  two  is  this,  sir.  Do  this  here  app'int- 
ment  take  in  Comely?  'Cos  if  it  don't  with  all 
respecks  to  Mr.  Hardy  and  the  admiral,  I  sticks 

323 


JACK   HARDY 

to  artichokes.  Comely  and  Gumley — they  sign 
on  together." 

"And  nobody  wants  to  split  you,  Gumley/' 
said  Jack.  "Go  and  see  the  admiral,  and  take 
Comely  with  you — only  hold  him  in,  because  the 
admiral's  rather  peppery,  and  Comely  might 
made  a  mistake.  He  will  know  that  with 
Comely  and  Gumley  to  watch  it,  the  dockyard 
will  be  as  safe  as  the  rock  of  Gibraltar." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir.  Then  we  takes  on  that  there  ap- 
p'intment.  Comely  and  me — in  the  king's  name." 


THE  END 


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